What Lies Within Us
by The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien
Summary: Harry is severely injured during the battle with the dragon in the first task of the Triwizard Tournament but refuses to let that keep him from finishing the competition. The questions remain, however: WHO put his name in the Goblet of Fire and WHAT do they wish to accomplish? AU!
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: So this story came into my head _mostly_ fully formed! And while I was going to wait until I got the whole thing written-for a change of pace-I changed my mind.

STORY SUMMARY: The first task of the Triwizard Tournament ends horribly for Harry who is severely injured in the process. There seems to be a plot afoot, but the culprit remains a mystery. AU! Disabled!Harry

* * *

HARRY POTTER: What Lies Within Us

* * *

_Chapter 1_

_Caulfield Hospital for Magical and Muggle Injuries_

_Durham, Scotland_

Lily Potter felt like she was about to throw up as she walked into her younger son's hospital room. Her stomach had been doing flipflops ever since far earlier in the day when she'd watched Harry flying about a Hungarian Horntail dragon on his Firebolt broomstick as he endeavored to complete the first task of the TriWizard Tournament.

And for a brief moment, Lily, and her husband, James, had breathed a sigh of relief as Harry swooped down, snatching a golden egg from the dragon's nest, and flew upwards and out of reach.

But then the dragon's spiked tail swiftly swung about, catching Harry in the stomach and sending him crashing down upon the rocks and boulders littered about the Quidditch pitch.

Everyone had dashed about, corralling the dragon and getting Harry to the treatment tent nearby. When Madame Pomfrey—the Hogwarts' school nurse—had seen the full extent of Harry's injuries, she'd ordered him sent to St. Mungo's Hospital straight away, but changed her mind and directed Harry to Caulfield Hospital instead when he started having difficulty breathing.

x

After hours in the waiting room, a surgeon had come out of the operating room with news.

Harry had fractured his T4, T5, and T6 vertebrae when he hit the rocks and two of the spikes on the dragon's tail had stabbed him in the abdomen, doing damage to Harry's stomach, intestines, and diaphragm before severing his spinal cord between the L2 and L3 vertebrae.

Lily didn't remember sitting back down or Molly Weasley pulling her into a hug as she cried.

Neither did she remember whatever James said to try and sound encouraging.

The following half hour, while the surgeon explained Harry's condition and recovery, were all a complete blur.

The next thing that registered in Lily's mind was when James led her to a room in the Intensive Care Unit and she saw her son.

Harry wore what looked like a padded plastic cast around his upper body and a second brace around his neck. There was a tracheostomy tube in his throat which was connected to a ventilator. An IV was connected to a port in his arm to deliver pain medication and a potion to help Harry's body heal faster.

As Lily sat down on the edge of the bed, she took Harry's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, hoping her son could feel it.

x

While their parents went to see Harry, Camille, Isabelle, Dominic, and Nicholas Potter stayed in the waiting room, each lost in their own thoughts about their brother.

Molly, Charlie, and Ron Weasley were talking quietly with Hermione Granger who was filling them in on the muggle medical terminology the doctor had used.

In the corner, Sirius Black—Harry's godfather—stood silently with one of his best friends, Remus Lupin.

Camille, the youngest Potter child at 8 years old, looked at her oldest brother—Nick—and asked, "Is Harry going to be alright? I mean, the healers and doctors—they'll get him fixed up eventually, right?"

Nick slowly shook his head, wanting to say that he didn't know but hoped his little sister was right. But thinking about what the surgeon had said, he replied, "I don't think Harry's going to really get better, Cam. He might heal up somewhat, but I really doubt he's going to recover all the way."

"At best, Harry will eventually be able to get around on his own in a wheelchair," Dominic added, not wanting to think about what the doctor had said about Harry's level of paralysis.

"What about worst case?" Camille asked, worried. "Could Harry die?"

The question brought all conversation to a standstill and as everyone looked at one another, none of them seemed willing to answer the question.

'**I don't think Harry's going to die,'** Isabelle signed, hoping she wasn't lying to her little sister. **'But I do think it will be a long time before he'll be able to leave the hospital.' **Born premature and with part of her throat fused, Isabelle was unable to speak out loud due to surgery to fully remove her vocal cords in order to give her a better airway.

"I feel like this is partly my fault," Charlie Weasley said, dismally. "I should have found a younger dragon… something smaller. But the folks organizing the TriWizard Tournament wanted nesting females, and, well… the Horntail was one of the few I knew of."

"Charles Weasley, this is _not_ your fault!" Molly insisted, hugging her older son. "What were they _thinking, _putting children and full-grown_ dragons_ together?!"

"Agreed," Sirius said, nodding, thoughtfully. "Barty Crouch should have come up with something far less dangerous for the first task."

"I'd still like to know how Harry's name ended up in the Goblet of Fire to begin with," Dominic said, thinking back to the start of this whole mess. "Professor Riddle said that it had to have been a very powerful wizard to pull off that kind of magic."

Nick looked from his brother to Sirius and asked, "Is the Ministry of Magic going to investigate this or are they writing it off as an 'accident'?"

Charlie shook his head, angrily. "If the Ministry tries to pull that type of stunt, I've got a whole _nest_ of dragons I'll introduce them to." Looking at his watch, he sighed and turned to his mother. "Mum, I'm going to go back to Hogwarts and give Dumbledore an update. Did you want to come back with me?"

Molly looked at the others and after a moment, nodded. "Ron? Hermione?" You're staying here, I presume?"

Ron and Hermione both nodded and once Charlie and Molly apparated out of the room, they settled down on one of the couches, Hermione nodding off almost immediately.

"I could sleep, too," Camille said, yawning.

Looking at his sisters, Nick gave the girls a smile. "Get some rest. We'll wake you if there's any more news."

Once the girls were curled up and napping on another couch, Nick settled down in one of the more comfortable chairs, waiting for their parents to come back.

* * *

Harry didn't wake up until just before sunrise the next day. Looking about the room, he wondered why he could barely move. Seeing his mother holding his hand, he tried to call for her, but no sound came out. When she saw that he was awake, she let out a deep sigh of relief. "Oh, honey, thank God you're awake." Turning towards her husband, Lilly called him over. "James?"

Harry tried sitting up but again found himself unable to move… or even feel the padded plastic 'cast' that was about his upper body. Raising his right hand, he signed, **'Mum, what happened? I remember the dragon and then… getting thrown against the rocks.'**

James put Harry's glasses on his face and after a moment's pause, explained what had happened. "The dragon's tail caught you in the stomach, doing extensive internal damage before knocking you into the rocks. You had severe injuries to your stomach, intestines, and the muscles that control your breathing. One of the spikes… perforated your spinal cord."

Harry flicked his gaze in the direction of the ventilator as he asked, **'Is that why I'm hooked up to this thing?'**

"Sort of, sweetheart," Lily replied, squeezing Harry's hand. "When you hit the rocks… The impact fractured several vertebrae in your upper back. The healers were able to take care of the broken bones and the injuries to your organs and muscles, but the nerves in your spine were damaged far more severely and they're not responding to healing spells."

Harry's mouth went dry as he realized what his parents were saying. 'How bad?' he mouthed after a while, unable to keep his hands from shaking as he tried to sign.

"You're paralyzed from the chest down," James replied, sadly. "You still have use of your arms, obviously, but… Right now you have no sensation or motor function below your shoulders. That's why you're on the ventilator. You can't breathe on your own because the muscles that control your lungs can't move."

'**But you said 'right now' I can't move or feel anything,'** Harry signed, quickly, seeing a glimmer of hope. **'So, I might not be paralyzed forever, right?'**

"Harry, the injuries to your upper spinal cord are incomplete," Lily explained, not wanting Harry to get his hopes up too much. "Which means there's a chance—a very, very slim chance, mind you—of you _possibly_ regaining _some_ use of your upper body."

Harry felt his momentary good mood vanishing as he listened to his mother's words. **'But not my whole body?'**

"The dragon spike that caught you in the stomach severed your spinal cord almost completely," James replied. "The surgeon said that there's a… a less than 2 percent chance you'll regain any use of your lower body."

Words failed Harry as he looked at the brace he wore and the ventilator tube attached to the trach in his throat. **'Do… Do the others know?'**

"Your friends and siblings know about your condition," Lily said, gently. "Remus and Sirius, as well." After a while, she asked, "Did you want to see them?"

Harry tried to nod, but remembered he couldn't move his neck at the moment. **'Yes,'** he signed. When his father left the room, he gestured to the brace and asked, **'How long do I have to wear this thing?'**

Lily shrugged uncertainly. "The doctor said at least 3 to 4 months until they're sure the spinal nerves are stabilized. Then you'll have to wear a smaller back support brace since you won't be able to sit up straight on your own."

'**And how long am I going to be here? In the hospital?'** Harry wanted to know.

Thinking about what the surgeon had said earlier, Lily replied, "It depends on how well you're doing. Once you're out of this brace, you're going to need to start physical therapy and even then, you'll need to have help with things. It could be another 6 months to a year."

Harry looked away, his gaze going towards his chest and lower body. It was strange—closing his eyes, he could actually feel where the sensation in his body ended. Of course, that was fairly easy to tell, since he could only feel the part of the brace that was around his neck and shoulders.

But looking at his lower body, Harry couldn't believe that it was all still there. Legs, stomach, torso… It was there. But he couldn't feel it. He could even see his chest rising and falling as the ventilator breathed for him, but he could barely even feel that.

Looking up as Camille, Isabelle, and Sirius came in, Harry wondered why everyone else was missing.

As if reading her brother's mind, Isabelle signed, **'The nurse at the desk down the hall said we needed to limit the number of people in your room to 4 at a time. She said you need your rest and she didn't want you getting too worked up.'**

Seeing how scared Camille looked, Harry patted the bed on his left side and gave his little sister a comforting smile. **'Come sit over here, Cam. It's okay.'**

"I… I-I don't want to hurt you," Camille replied in a shy, quiet voice.

Harry found the remote to adjust the back of the bed and raised it slightly, still trying to reassure Camille. **'You're not going to hurt me,'** he promised, touching the brace. **'That's what this thing is for. To keep me from moving and hurting my back even more. It's okay, Cam, really.'**

Camille slowly walked to the hospital bed and once she was sitting down facing her brother, she asked, "Why do you have that tube in your neck?"

Harry licked his lips, trying to think of the best way to explain. **'Because of how badly I hurt my back, my lungs aren't working on their own.' **Gesturing to the ventilator, he went on. **'So the doctors put a tube in my throat and connected it to this machine that's breathing for me.'**

"Does it hurt a lot?" Camille wanted to know as she studied her brother.

The 'protective big brother' part of Harry's brain wanted to shrug off the question—so to speak—and say that he was fine, the pain was hardly noticeable. But knowing that this was one thing he couldn't protect his little sister from, Harry replied, **'Yeah… It doesn't hurt as much as before because the doctors and healers are giving me medicine… And it's only my upper back that hurts. The rest of my body… I can't feel anything.'**

Camille looked sad as she looked at the padded plastic brace that was keeping her big brother's upper body immobilized. "So, you can't even feel someone hugging you?"

Harry put his right hand on top of the brace over where his heart was and gave a warm smile. **'My body might not feel it… but I'll feel it in my heart, okay?'**

Hugging Harry with tears in her eyes, Camille didn't even mind the awkward brace he wore. She was just glad her brother was going to be okay.

* * *

The Saturday after the first task of the TriWizard Tournament, Harry was sitting up a bit in his hospital bed, talking with his mother when Cedric Diggory came in followed by Sirius.

'**What are you doing here?'** Harry asked, looking at the other Hogwarts TriWizard Champion.

Cedric looked confused as Harry signed, but Lily quickly translated the question. "Oh. Er… I wanted to talk to you, if… If you're not busy." Almost immediately, Cedric's face grew red as he thought about his phrasing. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

'**It's okay, Cedric,'** Harry assured him with a dry smile. **'I know you didn't mean anything by it.'**

"Lily," Sirius said as he perched on the edge of the bed by Harry's feet. "Could you give us a little time alone?"

Getting up from her chair, Lily looked from her son to her husband's best friend. "Is this one of those 'plausible deniability' conversations or one of the 'lots of swear words' conversations?" she wanted to know.

Sirius's expression was slightly grim as he watched Cedric sit in the chair Lily had just vacated. "More like one of the 'If you know, you're going to freak out' conversations," Sirius replied after a moment or two.

Not liking the answer, Lily hesitated before giving Harry a kiss on the cheek and a hand squeeze before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

Cedric leaned forward, looking serious as he explained. "Barty Crouch, Ludo Bagman, and Cornelius Fudge got into a nasty argument right after you were taken away last week. Apparently, each thought one of the others'd had the idea to put dragons as the First Task."

Harry looked confused and signaled to Sirius that he needed an interpreter. **'So whose idea was it?'**

When Sirius repeated the question, Cedric shrugged. "No one knows. What's worse, Crouch and Fudge are insisting that the Tournament continue."

'**Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to sit the rest of it out,'** Harry said, gesturing to his body.

Exchanging a look with Sirius—something Harry found very interesting, indeed—Cedric went on. "There's also been a fair amount of talk about you being in the Tournament. Or, rather… someone using the Tasks to get rid of you or incapacitate you indefinitely."

Despite the fact that it made the part of his injured back that could still feel pain hurt more, Harry raised the back of his bed so he was fully sitting up. **'Okay, but who would do that? Did you ask Professor Riddle? I know his family—his biological family—were in the dark wizard category.'**

"Tom Riddle doesn't know anything," Sirius confirmed, referring to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. "The rumors _I_ heard were that Barty Crouch's _son_ was a dark wizard who wanted to eliminate muggles and muggleborns."

Cedric nodded, thoughtfully. "Crouch, Jr. would be able to set things up," he agreed. "He'd know who his father's contacts were and who to talk to in order to get the TriWizard Tournament up and running. But why get rid of you, Harry?"

Harry didn't have an answer to that question, although he could guess. Gather up the best students from the top three wizarding schools in Europe to see who might be worthy of joining Crouch, Jr. and doing God only knows what.

Changing the subject, Cedric started talking about the golden egg clue for the Second Task and about the talk of there being a huge gala—the Yule Ball—just before Christmas. "The egg just let out this screeching wail when I opened it," Cedric explained. "Didn't sound human, but for the life of me, I have _no_ idea what sort of creature it was supposed to sound like."

Harry and Sirius shared a knowing look before Harry signed, **'Go talk to Hagrid.'**

Cedric's eyes widened in surprise and he looked from Harry to Sirius and back to Harry. "Hagrid. You—You're serious?"

"The only person I know of who knows more about magical creatures than Rubeus Hagrid," Sirius replied. "—is Newt Scamander himself." With a grin, he added, "And yes—I am Sirius. But I'm also serious."

'He does that serious/Sirius thing A LOT,' Harry mouthed to Cedric while pointing to his godfather.

"Right…" Cedric said, nodding. "Anyway, as far as the Yule Ball thing, everyone at Hogwarts has been talking about if you're going to show up, even if you can't compete anymore."

Harry looked at his body and the brace he wore before glancing at the ventilator. **'I wouldn't count on it,'** he signed, dismally. **'I'm going to be stuck wearing this bulky thing for 3 to 4 months, then I'm still looking at being stuck here in the hospital for 6 months to a year.'**

Sirius straightened up, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Now, hold up there, Harry," he said, thoughtfully. "Let me talk to your dad about that first. Maybe we can smuggle you out for one night. We can't tell Lily, obviously, because then James and I would probably end up in full body casts along with you."

'**Sirius, are you off your rocker?'** Harry asked, flabbergasted that his godfather was seriously considering smuggling him out of the hospital. **'I mean, I want to get out of here as soon as possible but I don't think it's a great idea for me to be leaving the hospital that soon. I don't…'** Harry tried to calm down so he didn't set off any of the monitors that were registering his breathing and heart rate. **'Right now, I still have full use of my arms. What if something happens and I hurt my back even more?'**

Giving his godson a solemn look, Sirius put a hand on the teenager's shoulder, trying not to look at the brace. "Harry, if you want to go to the Yule Ball, I _swear_ that James, Remus, and I will make sure nothing happens to you. We'll even try to talk to your doctors and see if they'll help."

Harry licked his lips, still feeling tentative about the whole thing. Even if they _could_ pull it off, what good would it do? Well, boost moral for one thing, Harry decided, thinking about his fellow classmates, and his fellow Gryffindor quidditch teammates. And it would show the courage and tenacity of Hogwarts students. Plus, Harry thought—thinking of the idea that someone was trying to go after him personally—it might be a way to lure out whoever put his name in the Goblet of Fire. Especially of the Daily Prophet published news that he'd be there.

"You're up for going to the ball, aren't you?" Cedric asked, seeing the look on Harry's face.

'**Yes,'** Harry replied, looking at Sirius. **'Because it might be a way to find out what's going on.'**

"Harry, if your mother finds out you're using yourself as bait—" Sirius cut in, apprehensively. He could almost feel Lily's hands around his neck, strangling him for putting her son in danger.

'**It's **_**my**_** idea,'** Harry insisted. Feeling more determined, he looked at Cedric and then back at Sirius. **'So… How do we pull this off?'**

xxxxxxx

"_Sirius Black, have you lost your bloody mind_?" James shouted when his best friend told him about the plan as they sat in a corner of the hospital's café. "Harry can barely move and you want to put him in even _more _danger? Are you _mental_?"

"I want you and Remus to help Harry stay _out_ of danger," Sirius protested. "Harry goes to the Yule Ball, hangs around for a couple hours, lets everyone see him milling about, and hopefully whoever put him in the Tournament will out themselves."

"When they try to finish the job?" James snapped, irritably. Trying not to tear his hair out in frustration, he took a deep breath and asked, "Let's say—_hypothetically_—I agree to this… outrageously absurd plan. In case you forgot, Harry's in those back and neck braces and he's paralyzed from the shoulders down."

Sirius calmly outlined the plan. "First of all, if Harry's doctors don't think it's safe to move him, we won't do it. _But, _if Harry says he's still up to it and we can get one of the doctors, nurses, or healers to help, he'll be in a wheelchair with a portable ventilator. The ball is very classy, so Harry would be wearing dress robes over formal wear which he can wear over the back brace."

James thought about the idea and while he vehemently disliked it, he couldn't see any long lasting harm… at the moment, anyway. Besides, it would be good for Harry to get out of the hospital for a while and see his friends and siblings. However, the part that had him on edge the most was talking to the press. Rita Skeeter was covering the TriWizard Tournament and her writing tended towards the romanticized overly dramatic. James and Lily hadn't read any of the coverage after the First Task and no doubt Rita had written about Harry being at death's door or some other such nonsense.

Although, maybe seeing Harry up and about would take the wind out of Ms. Skeeter's sails and call her reporting into question.

Seeing that Sirius was still waiting for an answer about Harry going to the Yule Ball, James rolled his eyes and hoped he wasn't making a mistake. "Condition one," James said, his tone stern as he held up a finger. "If Harry's not fit to leave the hospital or he doesn't feel up to it, we don't go."

"Agreed," Sirius complied, quickly. "Believe me, the _last_ thing I want to do is set Harry's recovery back."

Holding up a second finger, James went on. "Number two—Remus is included on this and he has final say on all aspects of the plan. We both know he's _way_ more levelheaded than either of us."

Nodding in agreement, Sirius cocked his head to the side and queried, "Any other conditions?"

"Three—one of us has to be with Harry at all times," James added. "Clear line of sight. And not just because of anyone who might attack him. Which leads to number four—If Harry has _any_ health problems, we leave _immediately_."

Again, Sirius approved wholeheartedly. "Anything else?"

James lowered his hand and fixed his best friend with a look that was deadly serious. "One more thing."

Reading James's look, Sirius's eyes widened in fear as he instantly knew what the last condition was. "No."

"Yes."

"James…NO."

"Sirius…YES. I mean it," James said, sternly. "You say 'no', the plan's kaput."

Sirius slumped in his chair, looking doubtful. "You're sure?"

"If Lily finds out we did all this without telling her—" James pointed out.

"I know. I know," Sirius cut in, images of Lily throttling him with her bare hands popping up in his mind again.

"—she'll either kill us or make us _wish_ we were dead," James finished.

"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" Sirius asked, dismally. Straightening up and shaking his best friend's hand, he nodded. "Deal." Standing up, he stretched and prepared himself for the verbal assault he knew would be coming. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

_Hogwarts Castle_

Getting back to the castle late Saturday night, Cedric found that the Great Hall was already cleared of the dinner dishes and the students had all left for their dormitories for the night. Turning to head towards his own common room, Cedric was surprised to see Professor Riddle coming into the room. "You startled me, sir."

Tom Riddle chuckled kindly and beckoned Cedric to follow him into the Hogwarts kitchens and towards one of the long tables positioned directly underneath their counterparts up above. "Sit down, son," Riddle instructed before asking one of the house elves to prepare plates for himself and Cedric.

Once the two had eaten in silence, the plates were whisked away to be replaced with a perfectly sliced lemon tart, two goblets, and a pitcher of apple cider. "What are you doing down here so late, Professor?" Cedric inquired, curiously.

"Dumbledore asked me to assemble all of Harry Potter's assignments so his brother Nicholas can take them over in the morning," Riddle explained after chewing a bite of the tart. "I confess, I lost track of time." Eyebrows furrowing at the way his student was focusing on his plate, the professor asked, "So the rumors are true?"

"Which rumors, sir?" Cedric asked, caught off guard by the question. Was he talking about the rumors about Harry or about Crouch's son…?

"The rumors," Riddle explained, calmly, giving the teenager an accepting look. "…about you and Nicholas Potter."

Cedric let out a small gasp of surprise, dropping his fork on the table. "I, uh… I-I mean, you… We-We're…" After stammering for a few more moments, he took a shaky breath and willed himself to calm down. When he felt he could speak more plainly, he finally confessed, "He's my boyfriend."

Riddle reached across the table and put a comforting hand on Cedric's forearm. "I can't imagine this is easy for you—knowing that the brother of someone you love was injured so severely."

"I saw Harry at the hospital today," Cedric replied, nodding. "He had this… this plastic cast on and a brace around his neck," he explained. "And he was breathing through this tube in his throat."

Interested, Riddle pushed his dessert plate away and took a sip of cider. "I heard from Dumbledore that Harry was paralyzed, but I hadn't heard how badly."

Cedric pushed his own plate away after finishing his slice of tart and—as best he could—relayed what Harry had told him about his condition and prognosis. To Cedric's astonishment, Riddle was able to fill in a fair amount of the medical jargon.

"My adoptive parents were muggle physicians," Riddle explained when Cedric asked him about how he knew what he was talking about. "My biological mother died hours after I was born and I was left at an orphanage. I was adopted just over a year later."

"Harry said your real family were dark wizards," Cedric said, his curiosity piqued. "Is that true?"

While he didn't sound angry, Riddle's voice was slightly less cordial as he corrected his student. "The family who raised me—Sylvia and Garrett Valentine—are my _real_ family. The reason I have kept the last name 'Riddle' all these years is because my adoptive parents asked me when I was young if I wished to change my name. At first, I declined, saying that my name was all I had left of my biological parents. When I grew up and discovered my dark and unpleasant genealogy, I thought about changing my name. Then I realized that my past does not dictate who I am or what I might become."

"Well, you're a great teacher," Cedric assured him. "I've heard more than a few students say that they want to teach when they grow up because of you."

"I wish I could be more help with finding who had set current events in motion," Riddle apologized, sincerely. "But, alas, teaching is the closest connection I have to the Dark Arts."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At breakfast the next morning, Cedric found himself distracted as he watched Nick Potter talk to his brother and sister about visiting Harry later that day. Hermione handed him a heavily loaded canvas bag and Ron passed along what looked like some magazines and comic books.

Thinking about the Yule Ball, Cedric wanted desperately to ask Nick to go with him—something that would surely cause something of a scandal for both families. Still, he would certainly have a much better time with his boyfriend rather than some girl who only wanted to go with him because he was a TriWizard Champion.

After a hasty breakfast, Cedric headed for his dormitory to collect his homework and books before going to a quiet corner of the library to finish his assignments.

Halfway through proofreading his Potions essay, Cedric was startled by the sudden appearance of Isabelle who sat down across from him, holding up a muggle notebook turned to a page which read: _'So are _you_ going to invite my brother to the Yule Ball or do I have to do it for you?'_

"Blimey!" Cedric exclaimed, breathing hard to get his heart rate back to normal. After a moment, he asked, "Wait, how did you know about…? I mean, we were trying to be discreet about it."

Isabelle pulled a pen out of her pocket and rolled her eyes as she wrote a new note before showing it to him. _'I'm his sister, you twit! I know everything about the two of you. Just because I can't speak doesn't mean I can't hear. Like when the two of you were making out at the Quidditch World Cup this summer."_

"I-it was just a quick kiss… and maybe a more-than-friendly hug," Cedric protested weakly.

Isabelle flashed him a 'Who are you trying to fool?' look before writing one word in her notebook in big, capital letters. _'LIAR.'_ Setting the notebook aside, she raised her hands and—mouthing the words as clearly as possible as she signed—said, **'You love Nick. He loves you. So… When are you asking him to the ball?'**

"In case you hadn't noticed," Cedric countered, doing his best to keep his voice down. "…homosexual witches and wizards are not that common. You're right," he admitted. "Nick and I care for each other very much. And I would love nothing more than declare it to the whole school and everyone in it while asking him to go to the ball with me. But what if it got back to our parents and—"

Isabelle held up a finger in a 'Wait a minute' gesture as she turned a page in her notebook. When she heard Cedric start talking again, she gave him a stern look as she held up a hand to say 'Stop'. When she was done, she held up the notebook. _'First of all, my parents already know. Uncle Sirius has been planning a 'coming out' party for the past _year_. Harry knows. My 8-year-old sister knows. Dominic is planning to magically unfurl a banner saying that Nick loves you on Valentine's Day if you don't say something first. _MY _family _DOES NOT CARE!_'_

It was one of those moments where Cedric had to wonder what he was really afraid of. Was he afraid that his parents would reject him if they knew he was gay? Or was he afraid that—when confronted publically—Nick wouldn't return his affections? Looking at Isabelle's face, he found his gaze being drawn towards her neck. Cedric had never been this close to her before and he now noticed several scars across her throat and neck. "What happened?" he asked, pointing to the scars. "If you don't mind my asking, that is."

Isabelle lightly touched the surgical scars with her left hand as she wrote with her right. After a few minutes, she held out the notebook to Cedric who took it with a nod of thanks. _'I was born almost two months premature. My trachea—the part of my throat that acts as my airway—wasn't formed properly and had started to fuse together. That's why my mother's doctor insisted I be delivered early. I had a tube inserted directly into my throat so I could breathe. Once my doctors had a chance to thoroughly examine me, they realized that if they cut open the fused part of my trachea and completely removed my vocal cords, I could have a normal airway.'_

"So why didn't anyone regrow your vocal cords when you got older?" Cedric wanted to know.

Taking her notebook back, Isabelle wrote her response and held it up for Cedric to read. _'My pediatric surgeon tried when I was about 8 years old, but with the cords in the way, I couldn't breathe as well. So the doctor removed them again. That's when my family all started learning sign language—so I didn't have to write things down all the time.'_

It had been one of the big questions always present in Cedric's mind. Why Isabelle never spoke and why the Potters all knew sign language. At first, he'd assumed that Isabelle was deaf but decided that it had to be something else when he'd noted how responsive she was to anything spoken aloud.

But realizing how important sign language was to the Potter family, Cedric put his homework aside and asked, "Can you teach me?"

'**How to sign?'** Isabelle asked, mouthing the words as she signed. When Cedric nodded eagerly, she smiled back. **'Of course. Shall we start now?'**

* * *

_Caulfield Hospital_

When he walked into Harry's hospital room just before noon, Nick saw his mother sitting in a chair one side of the bed and Camille actually sitting on the bed on the other side.

Harry was again sitting up in his bed and there was a pair of slightly inflated leggings on his legs which were raised up on a stack of pillows. **'One of the healers-Franklin Shelton—said he was worried about me developing blood clots in my legs from being immobile. So I have to wear these—'** he pointed to the leggings. **'—for 8 to 10 hours a day. They're supposed to massage my legs and help keep the blood flow normalized.'**

Nick nodded wordlessly before setting his bag on the table in the corner. "I brought your books and assignments. McGonagall said she and the other professors would send everything over once a week and either Dom or I can deliver it and take the finished schoolwork back."

'**Sounds like a plan,'** Harry replied, looking at the bag. **'It'll give me something to do.'**

Sitting down in a chair by the bed, Nick gave his brother a good, long look before asking, "Any, uh… Any news on your recovery?"

Lily shook her head, putting her hand over Harry's. "No change," she reported. "But the doctors said it could be months or… or even years before there were any real signs of improvement."

"Harry said your boyfriend was here yesterday," Camille piped up, looking at Nick with a smile on her face.

Nick's jaw dropped as he looked from his siblings to his mother and back again. "Oh, uh, y-you mean, um… I-I mean, we're not _official_ or anything, but…"

"Oh, come off it, dear," Lily said, dismissively. "The whole family has known you've fancied Cedric Diggory for more than a year now. And while Amos and his wife aren't overly thrilled about it—Cedric's mother said she was hoping for a mess of grandchildren—they are begrudgingly accepting."

'**Isabelle is trying to convince Cedric to ask you to the Yule Ball,'** Harry threw in.

"I know Cedric has to have a date for the ball since he's a Champion, but I think it would be awfully weird for his date to be me… wouldn't it?" Nick asked, looking unsure about the whole thing.

"I think the two of you would look dashingly handsome together," Lily replied, honestly.

"Me, too!" Camille added, cheerfully.

Smirking, Harry threw in his two cents. **'If Mum doesn't kill Dad, Sirius, and Remus before then, they're planning on getting me out of the hospital just for that night. So with any luck, everyone will be focused on the Champion in a wheelchair rather than the one dancing with his boyfriend.'**

"Wait, wait, wait…" Nick said, looking from Harry to his mother. "Dad and Sirius are planning to do _what_?"

Lily crossed her arms, giving Harry a stern look. "Harry told me that it was _his_ idea to go to the Yule Ball as an effort to boost morale amongst the Hogwarts students. Isn't that right?"

'**I thought it would be a good way to cheer everyone up. You know—TriWizard Champion is horrifically injured but gallantly gathers his strength to go to the Yule Ball to inspire victory,' **Harry said, grinning like mad, his signing as grand and flamboyant as possible.

Nick fixed his brother with a severe look as well, not liking the idea in the slightest. "And what if something happens to you? I'm not even talking about your back. What if you fall out of the wheelchair or something and break your arm? And what about your breathing? You're going to take the ventilator with you to the ball, is that it?"

Coming to her brother's defense, Camille explained what her father and Sirius had discussed with Harry and Lily. "Dad said that Harry will have a portable ventilator with him and he'll still wear the back brace. Sirius said that some wheelchairs actually have seatbelts to hold patients in so they don't fall out."

"Mum, you're actually allowing this?" Nick asked, flabbergasted beyond belief at what he was hearing.

"Do I _like_ the idea?" Lily replied, looking from her youngest son to the eldest. "No. I think it's a stupid idea and rather pointless." Turning her attention back to Harry, she went on. "Harry, hearing about you being paralyzed and unable to breathe on your own… the doctors and healers talking about you being in a wheelchair—likely for the rest of your life—the band they put around your waist to manage your bowel and bladder functions, risk of blood clots… You have _no idea_ how nerve wrecking this past week has been. And seeing you in that plastic cast, and the tracheostomy and the ventilator… The idea of you leaving the hospital right now for _any_ reason scares the daylights out of me."

'**Well, **_**I'm**_** scared, too, Mum,'** Harry signed, dropping the façade he'd put up since waking up in the hospital and hearing about what had happened. **'You don't know what it's like to be unable to feel your own body. Even this 'cast' feels strange because even though it covers my whole upper body I can only feel part of it. And the idea of being in a wheelchair unable to walk… needing help to get out of bed or even sit up… Every morning, I wake up hoping this is all some horrible dream. And don't get me started on being hooked up to the ventilator. Feeling yourself breathe but not breathing on your own… It's really weird.'**

Trying to calm himself down so he didn't set off another breathing episode, Harry closed his eyes for a moment and focused on feeling what he could of the rise and fall of his chest. Two days ago, he had started crying which caused the tracheostomy tube to become clogged. During those tense seconds, two nurses had rushed into the room, disconnecting the ventilator hose and suctioning out the trach tube before reconnecting the hose. The experience was something Harry hoped to avoid in the future.

Opening his eyes, his gaze was pleading as he looked at his mother. **'I just want to feel a little normal for one night. I want to go and see my friends. Please let me go."**

On the verge of tears herself, Lily took Harry's hand in hers before giving him a hug, crying openly when she felt her son hug her back. "I am going with you… whether you like it or not, alright?"

* * *

_Hogwarts Castle_

When Nick got back to school during dinner that evening, he started to head towards the Gryffindor table when he was stopped by Cedric Diggory calling him over to the Hufflepuff table. With only the slightest hesitation, he walked over to Cedric who had stood up and met him halfway. "Hey," Nick said, cordially, not sure of what was going on.

After a quick glance over at Isabelle Potter who gave him a nod of encouragement, Cedric straightened up and signed, **'I would love it if you would go to the Yule Ball with me.'**

Surprised that Cedric had actually used sign language, Nick paused a second before his eyes lit up with delight. Mouthing the words as he signed back, he replied. **'I'd love that, too. Why are we signing?'**

Cedric hesitated on his response, forgetting exactly what Isabelle had taught him to say. Deciding to go with the words he _did_ remember, he signed, **'Isabelle… surprise… Yule Ball… together…'** "I'm bad at this. I'm sorry—"

"No, it's okay," Nick assured him, whispering as quietly as possible. **'4****th**** floor, the empty classroom. 9:15pm.'**

"Right," Cedric said, nodding before turning back to his House table. "We'll talk more then."

When Nick joined his brother and sister, he noted that Isabelle looked a bit disappointed. **'What's wrong?'**

'**I was expecting a big, romantic display when Cedric surprised you by saying he wanted to be together with you,'** Isabelle replied, glancing at Cedric who was trying to avoid some girl who was endeavoring to talk him into asking her to the ball.

"Well, I think you made the poor lad nervous," Hermione said in a reprimanding tone. "Cedric has been on edge all evening."

"So what _did_ you think he said?" Dominic asked, before taking a bite of mashed potatoes.

"I thought Cedric meant he wanted to surprise everyone with the two of us showing up to the Yule Ball together," Nick explained, helping himself to some chicken and a few rolls. "I'd guess he was trying to remember what you'd told him," he added, looking at his sister.

Instead of looking annoyed or disappointed, Isabelle grinned with delight. **'This is perfect! Everyone is going to be expecting Cedric to show up with a girl and instead, he'll be with you! Oh! Try and make out a little during the ball! It'll be the talk of the evening.'**

Looking about to make sure no one else was listening, Nick beckoned Hermione, Isabelle, Dominic, and the Weasleys to lean into a small huddle. "Not the only surprise," Nick whispered as he outlined the plan to get Harry to the ball.

Ron had to quiet Hermione down before she exploded in flabberghasted anger.

Fred and George shared a quick grin, planning for the big reveal in the Great Hall.

Ginny seemed delighted to hear that Harry would—hopefully—be well enough to attend, even if she did suddenly wish she hadn't already asked Neville to be her date.

"If Harry's going to do something this exceptionally stupid," Hermione said in a huffy whisper. "—I might as well go as his date to make sure nothing happens to him."

Ron looked put off by that news and frowned as he looked at his friend, his brow furrowed as he asked, "Well, them who am _I_ supposed to go with?"

'**I'll go with you,'** Isabelle volunteered, happily. **'I wouldn't be able to go otherwise, and if you lot think I'm missing the ball with everything going on, you're off your rockers.' **Pointing to her brothers in an accusing manner, she warned, **'And don't you **_**dare**_** do the 'Big Brother intimidation thing'. Ron's not going to do anything and I can handle myself, thank you.'**

Turning to his brothers, Ron asked, "So who are you two going to the ball with?"

Fred turned to George, taking his twin's hand in one of his own while pressing the other to his chest, "Georgie… my dear and favorite twin…" Fred said in an overly dramatic voice. "Would you possibly let me have the joy and honor of being your date for the Yule Ball?"

George let out an exaggerated gasp of surprise and pretended to cry as he responded in an equally theatrical voice, "Oh, Fred! I thought you'd never ask me!"

As the twins hugged, making everyone laugh heartily, Dominic felt relieved that he'd already asked Luna Lovegood to go with him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

_Caulfield Hospital_

_(The day before the Yule Ball)_

Harry woke to the sounds of his parents and Sirius talking as they entered his hospital room which had taken on a fair amount of decoration in the month and a half Harry had been there.

After nearly two weeks in the Intensive Care wing, Harry had been transferred to the long-term pediatric ward which felt less like a hospital room and more like a normal bedroom.

In order to keep Harry's arm strength up, a physical therapist, Madeline Bellamy, had been working with him on small dumbbell weights and shoulder stretches, being careful not to strain his back in the process.

Grabbing the bed control, Harry adjusted the incline so he was sitting up, getting his family's attention as he did so.

"How are you feeling today, prongslet?" Sirius asked, cheerfully. "Looking forward to tomorrow?"

'**Yeah, of course,'** Harry replied as his mother put the leggings on him. Seeing that his father and godfather had expected a little more enthusiasm at getting out for a night, Harry added, **'It's been over a month. I just thought I'd have gotten a little better by now.'**

Lily sat on the left side of the bed and faced her son, taking his hand as she did so. "You'll get there, sweetheart." When Harry rolled his eyes, she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You've heard what the doctors have said—it's going to take time… a lot of time, probably. And yes, right now things are at their worst. But you're alive and you still have use of your arms. And in another month or so you can get out of this bulky thing and into a slimmer brace so you can start learning how to get around again."

Taking a moment to calm himself, Harry finally signed, **'I know. I just… I **_**never**_** imagined something like this could ever happen to me. Even when I played quidditch. I mean, I broke my arm that one time in my second year but in a couple days I was good as new.'** After a long pause, he added, **'The other day, Dr. Warren asked me if I wanted to have a speech valve installed.'**

Lily, James, and Sirius looked at each other before turning their attention back to Harry. "What do you want to do, Harry?" James asked, curiously. He remembered Dr. Warren talking about the valve a few days after Harry's injuries when they'd discussed how long it might take for Harry to recover. _'If Warren is bringing it up again,'_ James thought. _'—he must think that it'll be longer than expected before Harry heals enough that he can breathe on his own again.'_

'**I don't want to think about right now,'** Harry replied honestly. He didn't want to think about planning on being on the ventilator indefinitely. True, he'd have to face the prospect sooner or later, but at the moment, he wanted to push that notion away and focus on something more uplifting. When he saw that his parents and godfather _did_ want to discuss the issue, he conceded. **'Let's wait until after Christmas, alright?'**

Lily started to argue, but Sirius cut her off. "That'll be fine, Harry. Besides, we need to discuss the Yule Ball tomorrow and there are plenty of details that we need to go over."

"Starting with keeping your spine immobilized," Lily said, nodding in agreement with Sirius. "Dr. Warren is going to be coming by shortly to remove the plastic cast and neck brace. That's the good news," she added, seeing Harry's eager expression. "After that, Healer Shelton and some of the nurses are going to put you in a regular upper body cast."

'**You mean like for a broken arm or leg?'** Harry wanted to know. When his mother nodded, he asked, '**Will I still be able to move my arms?'**

"Yes," Lily replied. "The cast will basically look like a turtleneck but without sleeves. It will start at your waist and go up to your chin. You might not have as much range of motion in your shoulders, but it won't be as bulky as what you have now."

"And there will be a fair sized hole at the front of your neck to accommodate the tracheostomy and ventilator tubes," James added. "You'll be in the cast for about another two months and when they remove it, they'll use it as a mold for a support brace for you."

"Best of all," Sirius pointed out. "You'll be able to wear regular clothes over the cast. Hopefully that will help make you feel a little more normal."

Harry was about to respond to the news when Dr. Warren, Healer Shelton, and two of the nurses, Emma and Roslyn, came into the room. Giving a brief wave of greeting, Harry looked at his mother. **'Stay with me, please?'**

"Sirius and I will wait outside," James said, heading out the door with his best friend following behind.

"Now, Harry," Warren said as he disconnected the ventilator for a moment so he could remove the neck brace. "This is going to take some time and it's not going to be easy, alright?" When Harry nodded slightly, the doctor undid the latches and straps of the body brace, leaving it in place as he brought over a strange pulley contraption. Once the device was positioned right in front of Harry, Warren gave him instructions. "I want you to hold on to the bar here—" He pointed at a textured metal bar at Harry's eye-level. "—and do _not_ let go until I say you can." Looking at Lily, he warned, "If it looks like Harry is losing his grip, let me know." Turning to Roslyn who had a stack of extra thick pillows with her, he said, "Once I remove the brace, slide the pillows behind Harry as quick as you can—just in case he lets go unexpectedly and falls backwards."

Licking his lips nervously, Harry grasped the bar firmly and when the doctor pushed a few buttons, he watched the bar slowly rise upwards, holding him up straight. When it stopped, the plastic brace was removed and when Harry looked down, his eyes widened in shock when he saw three puncture scars around his naval and one straight scar starting from his abdomen and going up towards his ribcage. The scars were faded and healing, but just seeing them, Harry remembered feeling the agonizing pain as the spikes stabbed him… the sensation of crashing into the rocks and his entire body exploding into horrific pain before everything below his shoulders went numb…

"Okay, Harry, I'm going to ease you back now," Warren cautioned as he lowered the bar before Roslyn put one of the pillows flat against Harry's back. "Now we're going to let you rest for a moment before we put the cast on."

Keeping Harry's back as straight as possible, Roslyn slowly lowered the teenager backwards and carefully removed the extra pillows before lowering the back of the bed so that Harry was lying flat.

Seeing the nervousness on her son's face, Lily took his hand, giving him a reassuring smile. "You're doing fine, sweetheart."

Harry tried to smile back, but in truth, he was remembering being loaded onto a stretcher and quickly carried away from the rocky field. Closing his eyes, he could hear Madame Poppy Pomfrey start to give instructions for talking him to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries before lifting his shirt and seeing the bloody, gaping wounds and telling someone to get him to Caulfield Hospital instead.

He had been just barely conscious when he'd arrived and he tried to say that he couldn't breathe but was unable to. Before Harry had passed out, someone had put a tube down his throat and he could feel air filling his lungs again.

Swallowing hard, Harry felt the tears welling up in his eyes and before he could stop himself, he started crying earnestly, the monitors keeping track of his heart rate and breathing going off with loud, rapid-fire beeping.

Emma grabbed one of the pillows and held it against Harry's chest to help keep him upright while Roslyn raised the back of the bed before watching for any signs of respiratory distress.

"It's okay, honey," Lily said, trying to calm Harry down, squeezing his hand. "Just breathe."

For a moment, Harry seemed to be calming down, but his eyes suddenly grew wide and he pointed at his chest urgently.

"You can't breathe?" Warren asked, quickly, looking at Lily when Harry started signing frantically. "What's he saying?"

In a state of full panic, Lily couldn't understand her son's gestures but as he mimed what looked like an explosion, she stammered, "Uh—uh—I-I-I think he said h-his lungs… exploding? I-I-I don't know! What's happening?"

Warren hesitated for a second before quickly disconnecting the ventilator and covering the end of the tracheostomy tube. "Breathe, Harry. Breathe."

At first, Harry couldn't breathe and he started to wonder if he was about to die. But as he finally managed a raspy inhalation and then a second more controlled breath, he looked down and saw that underneath the pillow pressed against his front, his chest was rising and falling in a rhythmic, albeit rapid, manner.

Lily sank into the chair by the bed, still holding Harry's hand as she sighed with relief. Once the trach tube was suctioned out, and Harry has been given a mild sedative, she stepped out of the room while Harry was given an exam to assess his condition.

Although James and Sirius bombarded her with question on what had just happened, Lily remained silent, trying not to start crying with joy just yet.

Warren came out of the room while Healer Shelton, Emma, and Roslyn proceeded to prepare Harry for the application of the upper body cast. "The good news," he began, looking at Harry's father and godfather. "—is that Harry is now breathing on his own."

James and Lily hugged each other tightly, with Sirius joining in with a bark-like laugh. "So Harry _is_ getting better? That's wond—"

Holding up a hand to halt the small celebration, Warren continued. "The _bad_ news is that Harry's level of paralysis has _not_ changed. He still has no sensation, reflex reaction, or motor function below his shoulders." When Harry's family looked deflated, he added, "I'm not trying to kill the mood. This _is_ an improvement and it is an encouraging sign. But Harry still has a very long road of recovery ahead and it could be a long time before we see any more significant progress."

Nodding that she understood, Lily let out another sigh of relief, slumping as the adrenaline rush began to wear off. "When can we see him?"

Looking back towards the hospital room, Warren judged the timing and replied, "In about an hour. Go get something to drink, rest for a little bit. And I know you were planning on getting Harry to the Yule Ball at Hogwarts tomorrow."

"Probably not a great idea at the moment, is it?" James asked, feeling dejected at the idea.

But surprisingly, Warren shook his head. "You should go. This is good news and Harry should go out to celebrate. When you get back, we can begin procedures for removing Harry's tracheostomy tube."

Sirius looked at Lily and James and said, "Why don't the two of you go home for a few hours? Get some sleep in your own bed. I'll stay here with Harry" When the couple started to argue, Sirius frowned slightly. "When was the last time the two of you actually got some real sleep? It's about 9:30 a.m. right now. Go home, get some sleep, grab a real meal… You could even bring some of Harry's clothes with you when you come back later this evening." Holding up a hand to stop further protests, he promised, "I will contact you if anything changes."

Although reluctant to leave, James took Lily's hand in his and the two apparated home.

Turning back to Harry's hospital room and stepping inside, Sirius closed the door and the curtains before settling down in the armchair in the corner while the nurses gave Harry a thorough sponge bath before helping him into clean clothes.

Once Healer Shelton had used his wand to get rid of the old sheets and blankets, he conjured new ones before using a levitation spell to raise Harry above the bed so that the two nurses could apply the body cast.

x

Once the cast was set and Harry was settled in a semi-upright position, Sirius stood and went over to his godson's bedside. "How are you doing, prongslet?"

'**Where's Mum and Dad?'** Harry asked, noting that his parents were no longer in the hallway.

"I told them to go home and get some rest," Sirius explained as he sat down in the chair by the bed. "They've either been staying here in the hospital with you or catching an hour or two of sleep at the family housing building next door. Thought they needed a chance to get some real sleep, you know?"

After touching the body cast which sported bright red and gold bandages—Gryffindor colors, Sirius noted—Harry's hand went to the tracheostomy tube. **'Can I tell you something, Sirius? It feels weird breathing on my own again.'**

"I'm quite sure it does," Sirius replied, smiling. "But it's a good thing, right?" When Harry gave a loud yawn, he asked, "Do you want me to lower the bed back down?"

'**Just a little,'** Harry signed. **'I don't like being flat on my back right now.'**

Nodding in understanding, Sirius stood and lowered the bed a bit before pulling Harry's blankets up to his chest. "Need another pillow behind you?"

Momentarily forgetting that the cast also encased his neck, Harry tried to shake his head. **'No, I'm alright,'** he said, finally. 'Thank you,' he mouthed. When Sirius gave him a curious look, Harry raised his right hand and signed, **'For staying with me. And you're right about Mum and Dad. They need a rest, too.'**

"Get some sleep, Harry," Sirius said, sitting back down in his chair. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

_Hogwarts Castle_

_Yule Ball_

Standing in the Entrance Hall, Cedric couldn't remember being more nervous as he looked about as the regular students started going into the Great Hall.

Victor Krum—the Champion from Durmstrang—and his date stood patiently waiting for McGonagall to arrive and give them instructions for making their entrance.

Fluer Delacour—the Beauxbatons Champion—kept smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her gown and dress robes or checking to make sure her hair wasn't a mess. Her date—Jeffery Prentiss, one of Cedric's housemates from Hufflepuff—kept trying to take her hand, calmly reassuring her in French that she looked absolutely gorgeous.

"Oh, good, you're all here," McGonagall said as she swept over to the Champions, looking them all over and pausing when she saw that Cedric was alone. "Mr. Diggory, where is your date? It won't look good if one of our three Champions is alone going into the ball."

Just as Cedric opened his mouth to say something, he caught sight of a crowd of people coming up behind the deputy headmistress. "First off," Cedric corrected her with a smile. "I think you mean _four_ Champions."

Brow furrowed in confusion, McGonagall turned to see what Cedric was looking at and her jaw dropped as she saw Harry Potter sitting in a magically-powered, motorized wheelchair wearing a tux and dress robes. Beside him was Hermione Granger and behind them were James and Lily Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Nicholas Potter who quickly went to Cedric's side, taking his hand with a smile before giving his boyfriend a quick kiss. Turning to McGonagall, Nick said, "And Cedric has a date. Me."

There was a long silence and no one was quite sure of how McGonagall would respond. But the woman's look of surprise eventually morphed into one of satisfaction as she indicated that Harry and Hermione should join the other three Champions. Before she led them all in, she whispered to Cedric and Nick, "Congratulations. The two of you just helped me win the pool."

"Pool? What pool?" Nick asked as they all entered the Great Hall amid applause and mild fanfare. Leaning close to Cedric, he asked, "Did you know there was a betting pool on us?"

Heading up to the staff table which had been expanded to accommodate the extra guests, Hermione and Lily levitated Harry and his wheelchair up the small set of stairs and led him to a spot towards the middle of the table.

When the dinner menus appeared, Harry found himself trying not to order some of everything. After over a month and a half of hospital food, he was ready for a real meal. Still, he didn't want to overwhelm his stomach and opted for the baked fish with rice and vegetables.

Professor Riddle, who was sitting on Harry's left, looked astounded that Harry had come and said so after ordering the seafood paella.

Covering the open end of the trach tube as Dr. Warren had shown him, Harry whispered, "Even though I can't compete in the rest of the Tournament, I thought I should come tonight."

"Well, it certainly is a magnificent display of valor," Riddle replied, nodding in approval. Pointing to the trach tube, he asked, "Problems with your throat?"

"They took me off the ventilator yesterday," Harry explained. "Now that I can breathe on my own again."

Riddle smiled and gave Harry a pat on the back, his gaze only lingering on what he could see of the body cast for a moment before he offered his congratulations. "I know it's probably not much, considering, but—"

"Believe me," Harry interrupted, covering the tube again. "It's a big deal."

x

"I bet it was Snape," James whispered to Lily as the two sat at a table with Sirius and Remus.

Lily rolled her eyes at her husband as a pitcher of chilled water and four crystal water goblets appeared. Pouring herself a glass, she pointed a finger at James accusingly as she said, "You think _everything_ is Snape's fault. If you stubbed your toe on a bookcase, you'd swear that Snape snuck into the house and put it there on purpose."

"It wouldn't have been Snape," Remus agreed, matter-of-factly. "He has a fear of live dragons, remember?"

James shrugged, admitting his error in judgment. "Fair point. You're right."

"And there's no way it would be a Hogwarts teacher," Remus pointed out. "They all love Harry. What about Karkaroff?" he asked, thoughtfully. "He's a shady sort."

But Lily shook her head, thinking about the First Task. "I think the question we need an answer to first… is _why_." Seeing that she had her companions' attentions, she lowered her voice a bit and asked, "_If_ Harry _was_ targeted, what purpose would that serve?" Before anyone could answer, she added, "And don't forget—whoever's behind this used very powerful magic to trick a powerful magical object."

"So we know it would have to be an adult," Remus mused, thoughtfully. "And unless one of the 7th year students can pull of a very strong Confunous Charm, I highly doubt one of them put Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire."

"Which brings us," James concluded, gravely, as he looked at the staff table. "—back to one of the teachers, Karkaroff, or Madame Maxime."

Again shaking her head in disagreement, Lily shot down the last two suggestions. "Giving Hogwarts _two_ Champions equates to two chances to win the Tournament."

x

After the dinner portion of the Yule Ball, Harry joined his parents, Remus, and Sirius while Hermione went to mingle with Ron and Isabelle and the other Champions went on to the cleared area of the Great Hall that was serving as a dance floor. "Having a good time, honey?" Lily asked, looking her son over.

'**Yeah,'** Harry replied, grinning. **'I spoke with Professor Riddle. He said something has definitely been up with Crouch lately. He's been practically interrogating all the teachers and Durmstrang students about any connection to the Dark Arts.'**

Remus's expression was grave as he looked from Harry to the others. "It _might_ be possible. We can't rule him out. And don't forget that his son was very deep into dark magic."

"What do you suggest?" Sirius asked, derisively. "We go up to the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and ask if his son is evil and working on some evil plan that involves Harry?"

Not used to being criticized so harshly by one of his friends, Remus just sat in silence.

'**Are you sure it wasn't your sister?'** Harry asked his mother in an effort to lighten the mood. **'Aunt Petunia?'**

Lily let out a snort of laughter at the very notion. "If it weren't for the face that Petunia hates the entire wizarding world and everything in it—myself included—she'd be a top suspect for certain."

x

Neither Cedric Diggory or Nicholas Potter was good at dancing.

In fact, they were downright horrible at it.

It didn't help that the first dance was a spritely waltz which involved the two teenage boys stumbling and tripping over one another's feet. Even when the music changed over to wizarding rock and roll at the students' requests, Cedric and Nick's wild dance moves caused everyone to back away quickly, lest their feet get stepped on or they caught a wild arm to the face.

After an hour, both boys left the dance floor, dropping into chairs near the festivities and laughing as their hands intertwined.

Practicing his signing as he spoke, Cedric waited until Nick was looking at him before he said, "I'm really glad you came with me tonight. This would have been an awful night otherwise."

"Are you mental?" Nick replied, signing and speaking as well. "Tonight was wonderful. I can't imagine being here with anyone else." Leaning forward, he put his hands on either side of Cedric's face and smiled warmly. "You look amazing tonight."

Cedric was about to reply when Nick kissed him, slowly winding his arms around his neck. Kissing back, Cedric's went around Nick's middle. There had been something incredibly freeing about tonight he realized at the two made out. Even though a number of people had stared at them and even made some rather crude and mean-spirited remarks, neither young man seemed to care.

Nick was right, Cedric realized as the two finally broke apart. Tonight had been magical and he wouldn't trade one moment of it for anything.

* * *

_Caulfield Hospital_

When Harry, Lily, and James got back to the hospital just before midnight, Roslyn greeted them at the nurses' station. "Welcome back. Everyone have a good time?"

"Definitely," Harry said, covering the trach tube. "But I'm exhausted."

Nodding in understanding, Roslyn led the trio back to Harry's room and helped the teenager out of his formalwear, setting everything aside before helping him into a long-sleeved sleep shirt and a pair of track pants.

As Roslyn positioned Harry—still in the wheelchair—next to the bed, she looked over at James. "You want to do it this time?"

James hesitated as Lily turned down the bed. It wasn't like he was afraid to—he knew the nurse would be watching closely—but it felt like another reminder of the severity of Harry's condition. And yet, as Harry's father, it was something he had to face head on. "Yeah, sure," he said at last.

"Are you left-handed or right-handed?" the nurse asked.

"Right-handed," James replied, not sure of why it made a difference.

Roslyn positioned James so he was standing on his son's right side. "Alright," she instructed. "Bend down and lift with your knees. Your right arm is going to go under Harry's legs, just above the knees. Your left arm is going to go around his middle. Harry, when your father has his arms in position, put your right arm around his neck."

"Alright," Harry replied, covering the trach with his left hand. When James bent down, getting his arms in position, Harry put his arm around his father's neck. Once he was out of the wheelchair, James walked around the bed, being as careful as possible as he lowered his son down before elevating the back of the bed to where he knew Harry liked it.

"Congratulations," Roslyn said, cheerfully. "That's all there is to that part. In a day or two, you can try lifting Harry into the wheelchair."

James nodded, looking at Lily. "Are you staying tonight, or do you want me to?"

"Do you mind?" Lily asked, moving so Harry couldn't see her signing. **'I'll get Harry's presents together. Is everyone coming tomorrow?'**

James nodded and winked. "Don't worry about it. Go get some rest. We'll see you in the morning."

After giving Harry a kiss good night and tucking him in, Lily left the room, closing the curtains and door behind her.

xxxxxxxxx

Harry slept until well after ten in the morning the following day and when he woke up, he blinked in surprise when he saw the blurry form of Remus Lupin standing by his bed. Once he had his glasses on, Harry signed, **'Where's Dad? He was here last night.'**

"Did you forget, Harry?" Remus said with a warm smile. "It's Christmas morning."

Eyes widening in surprise, Harry realized that he _had_ forgotten what day it was. **'So is everyone coming by later, or…?'**

"Not exactly," Remus replied, pulling back the blankets and helping Harry into his favorite flannel bathrobe. "I'm here to take you to them." Lifting Harry up and getting him settled in the wheelchair that was still by the bed before putting the teenager's slippers on, Remus continued grinning as he wheeled Harry out of the room and down the hall towards the patients' lounge.

Harry's smile was brighter than lit Christmas tree in the corner as he saw his whole family gathered about along with the Weasley family, Hermione, and Cedric.

"Merry Christmas, Harry!" Everyone exclaimed at once.

Laughing as he directed the wheelchair closer to the others, Harry couldn't stop grinning as he received hugs from everyone and kisses on the cheek from his mother, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Hermione.

Once everyone settled in, either sitting on the couch or on the floor, Molly Weasley and Lily sifted through the mountain of presents, distributing them according to the tags.

Harry's first gift, a very finely crafted chainmail shirt, was from Fred and George Weasley with a note that said, 'For the next time you have to face a dragon.'.

From Lily, Hermione had received what she believed to be a very large journal, but Lily explained. "This book has special storage charms on it. All you have to do is say 'Librum Transfero' and you can put as many books as you want into it. Then you just have to tap the cover with your wand and say what book you want to read."

Hermione's jaw dropped as she stared at the book. All the books she could ever want to read in a single volume and all at her fingertips.

"Thanks a lot, Mrs. Potter," Ron said, with a sarcastic smile. "Now we'll never see Hermione again."

Giving her friend a playful shove, Hermione rolled her eyes as Fred and George opened their new sweaters from their mother.

When there was one present left, James, Sirius, and Lily each exchanged a look before handing the long, large package to Harry.

'**What's this?'** Harry asked, not sure what he could possibly be getting that was that huge. **'New TV for my room?'**

"Open it and find out," Sirius replied, grinning like mad.

Harry tore the wrappings off, his jaw dropping as he saw a specially modified broomstick, complete with footrests, a raised backrest, and securing straps. Words failed him as he looked from the broom to his parents and godfather.

"James and I had a lengthy talk about you playing quidditch again when you finally get out of the hospital," Lily explained. She looked apprehensive, but her eyes were smiling. "And we were going to save this for if you got off the ventilator."

Pointing out all the extra features on the broom, James went on. "The seat has straps to hold you in, as do the footrests. There's handles on either side of the seat for you to use to steer. Best of all, it has the exact same speed and maneuverability as your Firebolt."

Harry couldn't find words to express how he felt at the moment and he took some deep breaths to keep from crying so he didn't have to ruin the moment by needing his trach tube suctioned out.

"We know it will be a while before you can actually play again," Sirius said, thoughtfully. "But at least you can look forward to getting back to it when you're ready."

x

Down in the hospital cafeteria an hour later, everyone enjoyed the Christmas brunch put out by all the hospital volunteers and cafeteria workers.

Once again, Harry tried to use restraint so that he didn't overindulge and instead only took a few things, knowing he could always go back if he was still hungry.

As they sat next to each other at one of the tables, Hermione wanted to know if Harry would be able to start his physical and occupational therapy sooner than expected since he was no longer on the ventilator.

'**If it were just the injury to my lower spinal cord,'** Harry replied, signing as he ate. **'—I expect I probably would be. But because I also fractured my spine in three places in my upper back, I think Dr. Warren is going to stick with keeping me in the upper body cast the full amount of time. And as much as I hate being stuck in this cast and unable to move or feel anything below my shoulders, I can't say I'm in any rush to start therapy.'**

"Why not?" Hermione asked, not sure why Harry wouldn't be thrilled to start getting around after being stuck in a hospital bed for so long.

Thinking of the best was to explain, Harry finally replied, **'If I were just paralyzed from the waist down, things would be easier. I could work on upper body strength and I'd be able to sit up on my own and using my core strength to do things like lifting or turning. But right now, without the body cast or a support brace of some sort, I can barely move. I'm reliant solely on arm strength.'**

Realizing what Harry was saying, Hermione nodded, slowly. "And even with physical therapy, there's no real guarantee you'll eventually regain use of your upper body," she added, forlornly.

'**It's a lot to deal with,'** Harry concluded, biting his lip nervously as he felt his heart rate start speeding up a bit. Looking at Hermione, he added, **'Not just for me… but also for anyone I'm with.' **Until the Yule Ball, Harry had never been able to understand the way he felt when he was with Hermione Granger. But the previous night, seeing her in her gown and dress robes, Harry had thought she looked amazing and desperately wished he'd been able to walk so the two could have danced the night away.

Hermione's eyes met Harry and she reached her hand towards his. When their fingers intertwined, she gave her best friend a smile. "Harry, I'll be with you through anything," she promised. Raising her other hand, she signed, **'I love you, Harry. And if you're asking me if I want to be your girlfriend… the answer is yes.'** As Harry's beamed, his face lighting up with joy and excitement, she added, **'The answer will always be 'yes'.'**

Letting go of Hermione's hand, Harry moved around the table so he was right next to her. After a moment's hesitation, he watched as Hermione leaned forward, kissing him on the lips.

x

When he got back to his room, Harry felt physically and emotionally drained and just wanted to sleep. Once he was back in bed and tucked in, he closed his eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.

Hermione and Isabelle offered to stay with Harry along with Nick while everyone else left for various destinations.

While Nick took up the chair next to Harry's bedside, Hermione and Isabelle went to sit on the daybed along the far wall.

'**So… you and Harry…'** Isabelle signed with a smirk on her face.

'**I can't explain it,'** Hermione replied, looking over at Harry. **'We've been friends since our first year, but we always felt closer than, say, myself and Ron.'**

After watching Hermione stare at her brother for a few minutes, Isabelle caught the other girl's attention and asked, **'What's wrong?'**

'**Not 'wrong', per say,'** Hermione signed, shrugging. **'Just something Harry said earlier.' **Seeing Isabelle's interested expression, she explained. **'Even with physical therapy, it's fairly likely Harry won't regain much if any use of his upper body.'**

'**True,'** Harry's sister agreed, nodding. **'Any moving or lifting will be done by arm strength alone.'**

'**And depending on just how well he develops that strength,'** Hermione continued. **'—he'll still need assistance getting in and out of bed, out of the bathtub or shower.'**

'**Upside,'** Isabelle pointed out. **'Harry has that band around his waist that magically monitors his bowel and bladder functions and gets rid of everything.'**

Her brow still furrowed in contemplation, Hermione let her thoughts wander. Several things had been on her mind since Harry's accident—primarily, the fact that magic couldn't repair Harry's spinal nerves. She'd even asked the healers taking care of him if dark magic had been used to prevent fixing Harry's spinal cord and they'd all reassured her that they'd checked for any such spells and found nothing.

One of the other things Hermione had been considering was additional ways magic might be utilized to help Harry have a more normal life, given his paralysis. Specifically, helping him get in and out of bed or the bathtub.

Feeling Isabelle poking her in the arm, Hermione was pulled from her thoughts. **'Sorry. I was just thinking.'** Changing the subject, she signed, **'So… you and Ron, eh?'**

x

For Christmas dinner, James and Lily came back with Sirius, Camille, and Dominic, each carrying takeout bags from a nearby delicatessen.

"I didn't think any place was open for Christmas," Nick said, quietly, so as to not wake up his brother who was still sleeping while Sirius pulled out containers of hot, sliced pastrami, potato lakes, homemade applesauce, buttered noodles, chicken soup, and two boxes of small, flaky croissants that were filled with a cinnamon and brown sugar mixture.

"One of Harry's regular nurses, Emma, said that her family's deli was staying open since they're right across the street from the hospital. That way patients' families can pick up food for Christmas dinner," James explained as he pulled plates, plastic utensils, and cups out of his bag while Sirius pulled out drinks and Lily adjusted the small table next to Harry's bed and moved it over towards him. "I thought that sounded like a good idea. How's Harry doing?"

Nick shrugged as he looked at his brother who was still sleeping. "He's been out practically since you all left. Emma and Roslyn checked in on him about half a dozen times throughout the day and everything's alright. I think he was just tuckered out by everything going on over the past few days." Touching Harry's shoulder gently, Nick raised his volume a bit. "Come on, little brother. Time to wake up. Christmas dinner is here."

Harry stirred and opened his eyes, blinking as he reached for his glasses on the table in front of him. **'Smells delicious. What are we having?'**

"Take out from the deli across the street," Lily replied, adjusting the bed so that Harry was sitting up as much as possible before moving the table closer and lowering it slightly. "You want me to just fix you a plate?"

"Please," Harry whispered, covering his trach tube. When he had dinner, a drink, and a small cup of soup in front of him, he dug in, doing his best to not spill anything on himself.

"I know these past weeks haven't been easy on any of us," Lily said when everyone had eaten the last bites of dinner. "… but I feel that we're still very fortunate this Christmas. This holiday could have been much worse."

After considering his words carefully, Harry added, **'I agree. I know that nothing is going to be easy for me from now on. But I'm alive and breathing on my own again. And I know that whatever I go through during my recovery, I won't be dealing with it alone.'**

'**Hear, hear,'** Isabelle signed, raising her cup.

"I'm sorry, Izzy, I didn't catch that," Dominic said, cupping a hand to his ear. "Say that again?"

Isabelle grabbed an empty plastic cup and chucked it hard at her older brother's head, hitting him in the face. **'I've told you,'** she signed, furiously. **'Do NOT call me 'Izzy'!'**

Alarmed at the anger on Isabelle's face, Hermione looked at Sirius and the rest of the Potter family for an explanation.

After a few minutes, Lily took a deep breath and said, "The last time I ever spoke to my sister, Petunia Dursley, we were all at the zoo one summer afternoon. Camille was 2 years old, Isabelle was 6, Harry was 10, Dominic was 11, and Nick was 13. At the time, Isabelle liked going by the nickname 'Izzy'. But when we came across my sister and her horrible son, Dudley, he started taunting Isabelle about not being able to speak. Then Petunia called her a 'dumb, useless crippled freak'."

Hermione was aghast by the news and hugged Isabelle who started sniffling back tears at the memory. "That's atrocious!" Hermione exclaimed, her own temper rising.

'**That's not all,'** Isabelle added, hearing the taunting echo of Dudley's voice in her head.

"When Isabelle started to cry," Nick went on. "Dudley started chanting 'Stupid Izzy is in a tizzy' over and over." Giving Harry a grin, he concluded, "—until Harry clocked the little snot in the face."

'**Broke his nose and gave him a black eye, too,'** Harry threw in, grinning with satisfaction.

"The last thing Petunia ever said to me," Lily said with a shaky voice. "—was 'Keep your crippled daughter and freak family away from mine!'."

James pulled his wife into a hug and whispered something no one else could hear but made Lily let out a dry chuckle.

"Well, who needs them?" Dominic said, refilling everyone's drinks and passing around the cinnamon roll croissants. "The Dursleys don't know what they're missing!"

"Thank you, honey," Lily replied, giving her son a hug.

"Wasn't that when we were in the reptile house?" Nick asked, thinking back to that day. "You set that python on Dudley right after you knocked him to the ground."

"Wait," Hermione interrupted, looking over at Harry, astonished. "You did what?"

Harry grinned and instantly launched into the rest of the story, much to the enjoyment of the rest of his family.

* * *

_Hogwarts Castle_

_The Second Task_

The last person anyone expected to show up to watch the second task of the TriWizard Tournament was Harry Potter so there was an increased amount of noise on the shores of Black Lake as the pre-task preparations took place.

Having had the body cast removed the week before, Harry had insisted on going and James and Sirius decided to join him. The back brace he now wore was a fabric-coated metal affair with a padded back and straps that went around his middle and upper chest, starting at just below his armpits and ending at his waist.

Joining his siblings and fellow Gryffindor students, Harry shook Cedric's hand as he prepared to join the other two Champions on the platform serving at the starting point of the task. "Good luck, Cedric," Harry said aloud, grateful that he no longer had the tracheostomy tube in his throat. "Be careful in there," he added, nodding at the lake. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

After a quick 'good luck' hug from Isabelle and handshakes from Dominic, James, and Sirius, Cedric gave everyone a wave and hurried off to the platform, casting a Bubble Head charm right before diving into the lake, swimming as hard as he could to try and find whatever he was supposed to be looking for.

x

On the shore, Harry looked about, wondering where his oldest brother could possibly be. "Did any of you see Nick this morning? I can't believe he would miss this."

"We haven't seen him since last night, honestly," Fred replied, looking about along with George.

"Oh, God…" Ginny said, softly, staring at the lake with a anxious expression on her face.

"What is it?" Dominic asked, wondering what had the girl so suddenly upset.

"Dumbledore said that something had been stolen from each of the Champions!" Ginny said, looking at Harry.

Although Harry couldn't actually feel his stomach physically, there was a deep, internal nervousness growing inside him that he felt very keenly. A feeling that was getting bigger, threatening to override his common sense and cause him to do something exceedingly stupid—like steer his wheelchair directly into the water and search for his brother even though he could only use his arms.

As if reading his son's thoughts, James grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, backing away from the shore a short ways.

"Dad, get off!" Harry shouted, attempting to twist around but his body refused to cooperate. He tried to pitch himself forward letting out a frustrated yell when he couldn't move. Throwing his head back so it hit the headrest of the wheelchair, he shouted again as he smacked his thigh as hard as he could.

A short while later, they heard the crowd near the platform working itself into a panic with about a dozen people crowding around the edge, reaching down to help someone out of the water. The Potters turned to see Cedric climbing out of the water along with Nick, Fleur, and a young girl that looked to be Fleur's sister.

"Out of the way!" Harry shouted, his father, godfather, and siblings following behind as they went over to where Cedric was being helped out.

Harry stopped suddenly when he saw Madame Pomfrey and two helpers pulling Fleur up, her left arm missing a few inches above the elbow and gushing blood. Her rescuers wasted no time wrapping the end of what was left of her arm in a towel before levitating her onto a stretcher and racing back towards the castle. Seeing his brother hurrying past, Harry reached out a hand to stop him. "Nick, what the bloody Hell happened?"

"Kelpies!" Nick hollered as he sped after Madame Pomfrey.

With only the slightest hesitation, Harry followed, the others joining him as he made his way up to the school.

xxxx

Two hours later, Fleur was resting in one of the beds in the Hogwarts hospital wing, the stump that had been her arm bandaged and propped up on a pillow.

Although the curtains around her bed were drawn, Harry, Cedric, and Nick had been allowed in at Fleur's request. "_Merci_," she said, softly, a catch in her voice as she took Cedric's hand for a moment before taking Nick's. "Both of you. You saved me, _and_ my sister." Tears filled her eyes and she began to cry as she looked over at what was left of her arm. Turning towards Harry, she added, "_Madame _Pomfrey asked me if I wanted to go to St. Mungo's or Caulfield."

"Caulfield leans slightly more towards more common injuries," Harry explained. "But they are very efficient in magical healing. And I wouldn't mind the company."

Fleur nodded and when she fell silent, the three teenagers took their leave.

Outside the hospital wing, Harry maneuvered around so he was facing Cedric as he asked, "What the blazes happened? Nick said something about a kelpie?"

Cedric let out a shaky breath and he led Harry, Nick, James, and Sirius to a nearby alcove, sitting down on the window seat. "It came out of nowhere. I'd just found Nick, Fleur's sister, and some other girl tied with kelp. Fleur swam over and was starting to rescue her sister when the kelpie swam straight for her. The bloody thing was hellbent on attacking Fleur. Bit her arm clean off." Cedric paled at the memory. "There was so much blood…"

"That's two TriWizard Champions who have been critically injured," James said, gravely. "And one Task left."

"There _has to_ be something we're missing," Nick insisted. "But Harry's told us everything he knows and—"

"Maybe he hasn't," Sirius cut in, looking pensive as he looked at James and Harry. "We need to get into Dumbledore's office. I think I've got an idea."

"An idea about what?" Harry asked, confused as to what his godfather was talking about.

But Sirius didn't reply right away. Instead, he led the way to the griffin statue that stood at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Once the small group was outside the closed office, Sirius paused as he heard raised, angry voices coming from inside. "Hold up," he said, quietly, pressing his ear to the door. "Dumbledore's got a meeting or something."

James pressed his own ear against the door, his eyes growing wide as he recognized one voice in particular. "Back off, Padfoot. Come on."

Sirius didn't want to at first, but when he also recognized the gruff voice, he stepped back.

The office door opened, revealing Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge, Madame Maxime, Igor Karkaroff, and retired auror, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody.

"Always did have a penchant for eavesdropping, didn't you, Black?" Moody said, studying the group. "What are you lot doing here, anyway?"

"This is a _private_ meeting of the highest importance!" Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, said, his supercilious voice full of disapproval.

But to everyone's surprise, Sirius seemed to ignore the looks of displeasure and annoyance. Looking at Dumbledore, he said, "I was wondering if we might make use of a particular artifact, sir."

Dumbledore gave a single nod of understanding and gestured towards the door. "If you will please follow me to the staff lounge," he said, kindly. "I would be more than happy to continue this conversation."

"I say, Dumbledore," Fudge replied, impertinently. "Just what are you on about?"

"If I am correct," Dumbledore replied, cordially. "—allowing them the use of my office may very well yield critical information."

Once they were alone, Sirius started looking around, trying to find what he hoped would allow them to see Harry's memories more clearly. "Aha!" He said finally, finding it in a cabinet. Turning to his companions, he placed a large stone basin on the desk and beckoned Harry over as he withdrew his wand. "Don't worry, Harry. This isn't going to hurt a bit."

"What…?" Harry was thoroughly perplexed as he went over to the desk.

"It's called a penseive," Sirius explained. "You can withdraw memories from your mind, deposit them in the basin, and then review them whenever you want." When James raised a questioning eyebrow, Sirius shrugged in a noncommittal manner. "Dumbledore let me borrow it once in order to prove Lily's innocence when she got blamed for a prank gone wrong."

Seeing that his son was still confused by the artifact and its purpose, James thought of a proper comparison. "Think of it as… printing out files from a computer. This doesn't completely remove memories from your head. It just copies them for closer inspection." Giving his best friend a knowing look before turning back to Harry, he added, "If we go into your memories of the First Task, Harry, maybe we can find something we've missed which may lead us to a suspect."

"Just hold still," Sirius instructed, putting the tip of his wand to Harry's temple. "And concentrate on your memories of that day."

Harry closed his eyes and focused hard on the start of the tournament…summoning his broom… the dragon…

"You first, Harry," James said after Sirius deposited the memory into the penseive.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he shook his head, vehemently. "I can't. I… I can relive that day well enough already, thanks," Harry said, glancing at the wheelchair he sat in.

James pulled a chair over and sat down so that he was facing his son and gave him an encouraging look. "I know you're scared, Harry. Believe me, seeing you get stabbed by that dragon's tail and crashing into those rocks is the last thing _I_ want to watch as well. But we're not after part. Everything will play from your point of view, but we'll be able to act independently. We can see things you never noticed. But," he added, looking at Sirius for a second. "—we also need _you_ to tell us what you were thinking when things happened… Your interpretation of events."

Harry swallowed hard and nodded, watching as Sirius first entered the penseive.

x

"I don't think Harry was supposed to get the Hungarian Horntail in the first task," James said as Dumbledore walked back into his office an hour later.

Noting that James was alone in the room, Dumbledore asked, "Where is everyone else?"

James sat in front of the desk while the headmaster took his seat behind. "Nick and Cedric are in Professor Riddle's office. Both seemed awfully rattled by what happened. Riddle offered to get them each a cup of his famous hot chocolate. Sirius is with Harry in the hospital wing. Going into his memories of the first task was harder on Harry than I expected and add to that what happened this morning… Anyway, Harry said he wanted to lie down and rest for a while."

Dumbledore's look was that of a concerned grandparent as he inquired, "How is Harry doing? Has there been much improvement since the holidays?"

"Not particularly," James replied, shaking his head. "Harry's breathing on his own and we're grateful for that. He's out of the body cast… I'm worried about how hard physical therapy will be on him. Harry's brief bouts of activity tend to tire him out quickly. Dr. Warren keeps telling Lily and I that it will take time for Harry to rebuild his stamina."

Shifting subjects, Dumbledore looked at the penseive which was still sitting on the desk. "You mentioned that you believe that Harry was not meant to battle the Horntail," he mused, thoughtfully.

James nodded. "Maybe Crouch was just trying to keep the dragon models from biting him though the bag," he explained, standing and prodding the contents of the penseive with his wand to bring up Harry's memories. "—but look at how he keeps jostling the bag after offering it to Cedric, Fleur, and Krum."

After watching the scene play out, Dumbledore looked up at James, fixing him with the gravest of expressions. "You believe Barty Crouch is behind all this? That he wanted another champion to be attacked by the Horntail? To what end?"

But despite the headmaster's doubts, James wasn't deterred from his theory. "More like… someone else was disguising themselves as Crouch and using the TriWizard Tournament as a cover to eliminate certain targets."

Dumbledore leaned back in this chair, steepling his fingers in thought. "I must admit, Alastor did suggest the same thing. He believes that Barty Crouch's son is behind it."

Sitting back down, James's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why is Moody here? I thought he'd retired."

The headmaster's eyes twinkled in amusement as he replied, "A man like Alastor Moody cannot simply retire. He needs something to help keep his mind sharp and his senses finely tuned. Last week, I contacted Alastor and told him of our situation and asked if he would be so kind as to apply his eye to the case."

"Mad-Eye Moody, private investigator," James said, chuckling. "Somehow it suits him." His expression turning serious once more, he asked, "If Crouch's son _is_ behind all this… what does he gain? None of the champions are muggleborns."

"Lily is," Dumbledore pointed out. "And Fleur's grandmother is a veela. Perhaps he is sending them a message."

"'Look what happens when you mate with wizards?' I suppose," James mused, though his tone was skeptical. But as he thought about the theory that Harry _wasn't_ supposed to be injured, he straightened up. "What if… there's actually two separate plots going on?" When Dumbledore seemed intrigued by the idea, James talked it out. "Someone—we believe it to be Barty Crouch, Jr., yes?—puts Harry into the TriWizard Tournament to eliminate him because his mother is muggleborn. Someone _else_ disguised themselves as Crouch, Sr. to try and keep him from facing the deadliest dragon in the bunch. Fleur is targeted because her grandmother is a veela, which is why someone set a kelpie after her. But, thankfully, Cedric was able to save her."

Dumbledore stood and headed for the door, motioning for James to follow him. "In that case," the headmaster said, setting a brisk pace as the pair headed for the hospital wing. "—Miss Delacour's injury may not be as easy to fix as we initially presumed."

Once in the hospital wing, Dumbledore headed straight for Madame Pomfrey before whispering something in her ear.

Pomfrey, who had been preparing to send Fleur to Caulfield Hospital, gave the headmaster a sharp look before turning to the young woman, withdrawing her wand as she did so.

Heading for Harry and Sirius, who were on the other side of the room, James pulled the curtain around the bed and filled his son and best friend in on his conversation with Dumbledore. "I'm worried about Cedric," James admitted when he was finished. "I'm not saying that I'd prefer something happen to Victor Krum—Hopefully we can figure out this mystery and keep both young men safe."

"But if something happened to Cedric," Harry said, finishing his father's line of thought. "Nick would be devastated."

"It's February," Sirius said, thinking of the timeframe they had to work with. "The final task isn't until the first Saturday in June. That gives us over three months."

"Unless whoever it is decides to accelerate their schedule," James countered, apprehensively. Running a hand through his messy black hair, he went on. "Dumbledore has Alastor Moody investigating things and he agreed that Crouch's son is a viable suspect and that Crouch himself—or someone pretending to be him—may be trying to intervene."

"And since no one has been after me since the first task," Harry added, thinking about everything that had happened since that morning. "—I think it's safe to say that whoever is behind all this doesn't consider the targeted champion a threat once they've had their 'accident'."

When the curtain around Harry's bed was pulled back revealing Madame Pomfrey, James and Sirius noticed that Fleur was now sitting in a manual wheelchair. "Miss Delacour has a block on her arm. I'm not sure if the block is natural or dark magic. I was hoping I could ask you lot to accompany her to Caulfield Hospital and look after her and her sister until their parents arrive."

"Of course," James replied, nodding, before turning to Harry. "Come on, Harry. Up you get." After lifting Harry up and getting him settled in his wheelchair, James then went over to Fleur and brought her over to Harry and Sirius.

"Where's your sister now?" Sirius asked, curiously.

"Professor Sprout is watching her in the greenhouses," Fleur replied, a small smile on her face as she added, "Gabrielle loves herbology. It is her favorite field of study."

Nodding, thoughtfully, James looked at Sirius. "Why don't you go get Nick and Cedric and then pick up Gabrielle? Harry and I will take Fleur to the hospital."

Sirius nodded and headed out the door while James nabbed an empty drinking cup from off a table nearby. After turning the cup into a portkey, he transported all of them to Caulfield Hospital's emergency room before flagging down one of the healers to take Fleur to the examination area.

"Why don't you wait for her here, Dad?" Harry said after a minute. "I can find my way back to my room and I'll ask one of the nurses to help me back into bed if Mum or Remus isn't there."

While he hesitated at first, James agreed and Harry headed for the elevators, stopping as he reached for the button. As tired as he felt, he didn't really want to go back to his hospital bed. He wanted to do something more physical, even though he was significantly limited in that area at the moment.

Calling the elevator at last, Harry directed his wheelchair inside, turning so he could push the button for the 3rd floor. As the doors closed, he knew his parents were going to panic when he didn't go back to his room.

On the 3rd floor, Harry headed down the hallway and stopped before the doors to the physical therapy wing. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the door control remote on the wall and headed through.

xxxxxxxxxx

After lectures that evening about going off on his own without informing anyone, Harry expected his parents to say something about him being grounded. But when James and Lily demanded an explanation as to where he'd been and what he'd been up to, they were surprised to hear the response.

"I'm tired of feeling tired all the time," Harry began, simply. "Yes, being up and about in the wheelchair for long periods of time is draining. But I need to start working through that. I need to start working on building stamina again, and I need to really work on building up my arm strength." Touching the armrest of the wheelchair as he thought, he added, "I don't know why all this is happening. But it has and I need to be ready for whatever comes next."

Lily and James exchanged a look and finally nodded in agreement. "Alright, Harry," James replied. "We'll talk to Dr. Warren and Healer Shelton tomorrow."

Knowing how his parents were bound to react, Harry was reluctant to tell them the other resolution he'd made while starting his physical therapy, but knew that they needed to know. "And depending on what it is… I think I want to try to compete in the third task."

"No," Lily said immediately just as James responded with, "Absolutely not."

"Look, let's ask Dumbledore if he can let us know what the task is going to be," Harry argued. "But it can't be worse than battling a dragon, right?"

"Do you have a death wish?" Lily snapped, anger and fear in her voice as she went over to her son, grabbing him by the upper arms. "I almost lost you three and a half months ago! When I heard you were paralyzed from the chest down, I felt like someone stabbed me in the heart! Harry, every day I thank God that you're alive but I also feel this horrible twisting sensation in my stomach whenever I see you in that hospital bed or in the wheelchair. If anything else happened to you, it'd kill me. Please don't put me through all that again."

James gave his son a stern look as he said, "I don't know if you want to prove yourself to someone or if you think that this is the way to out whoever started this whole debacle. But either way, it doesn't matter. You're not competing again. Harry, you're already paralyzed. I don't want to see you die because of something to abysmally stupid as this God-forsaken competition."

"I want to compete," Harry said, his voice full of resolve. "—because even though I'm paralyzed from the shoulders down, I'm not completely helpless. No, I can't walk right now and believe me: I understand full well that I likely never will again. But I still have full use of my arms and I am perfectly capable, mentally. I'm not doing this for anyone else but me. Because _my_ name came out of the Goblet of Fire and paralyzed or not, I'm not ready to admit defeat after one task. Besides," he added, thinking of the night his name was drawn. "—Mr. Crouch said that my name being chosen constitutes a binding magical contract. He may have given me a pass on the second task, but I think the third one I have to see through."

Lily sat down on Harry's bed, burying her face in her hands. After a moment, she looked up, tears shining in her eyes and a heavy, pleading tone in her voice. "Sweetheart, no one—_no one_—will ever think less of you because you only completed the first task. And… you weren't even supposed to be competing!"

James stood up and after a few moments, he looked from Harry to Lily. "I think… that we should give Harry a chance."

Lily jumped to her feet, shocked and outraged that James had taken Harry's side. "Have you _looked_ at your son lately?" she shouted. "What on Earth makes you think that Harry could compete in _any_ kind of challenge right now?"

But James was patient as he put his hands on his wife's shoulders and gave her a calm look. "Because I _have_ looked at our son. I've seen him accept the news of a devastating injury without wallowing in misery. I've seen him strive to keep up with his schoolwork when he has the perfect excuse to blow everything off. I've seen him demonstrate the strength, resolve, selflessness, and stubbornness that we worked so hard to instill in him. Do I like the idea? _No_. But do I trust Harry to do the right thing and make us proud? Always."

Sinking back down on the bed again, Lily prayed for guidance as she considered her family's words. This was a _horrible_ idea and both James and Harry knew it. And yet… James had made an excellent point. Harry _was_ ridiculously stubborn at times and when he put his mind to something, he almost always succeeded. Lily was suddenly reminded of before Harry started at Hogwarts and had heard about the release of the Nimbus 2000 broomstick. When asking for it for his birthday had failed—"But I _need_ it for when I make seeker on my house quidditch team!" Harry had protested, loudly.—Harry had switched tactics immediately, offering to do chores for his parents and the neighbors in exchange for money and saving every bit of his allowance to buy the broom.

But no matter how much confidence Harry had in himself, it didn't quell the fear churning inside Lily. Even when she begrudgingly agreed and James and Harry kept talking about how they would prepare for the third task, she couldn't shake the inescapable knowledge that _someone_ wasn't going to make it out of this tournament alive.

* * *

_Hogwarts Castle_

After talking with Harry's doctor and healer the next day, James went directly to Hogwarts, heading for Dumbledore's office when he stopped outside an old, unused classroom. The door was slightly ajar and a pair of heated voices argued inside. Peeking in, James withdrew quickly when he saw that the voices belonged to Dumbledore and Moody but when the squabble continued, he realized that Moody was not aware of his presence. Creeping closer, James was eager to hear what the dispute was about.

"What you are saying has no degree of reasonable logic, Alastor!" Dumbledore said, heatedly. "I have known the man since he first came to this school as a student."

"I called you a fool years ago when you first hired him!" Moody snapped, his voice sounding gruffer than usual. "And I'm calling you a fool now because you _just_ _won't see it_!"

"Tom Riddle is one of the most beloved teachers Hogwarts has ever known!" Dumbledore went on. "The fact that you've grown so paranoid as to see dark wizards everywhere is clouding your judgment!"

"It's not _my_ judgment that's been clouded," Moody replied, his voice suddenly calm, but no less dangerous. "Or have you forgotten who the man is related to? Who he's the descendant of? Salazar Slytherin himself."

"Tom Riddle has _never_ harmed—or even said a harsh word—to _any _muggleborn student," Dumbledore pressed on. "Even if he _did_ harbor those feelings, he has never shown or acted upon them."

"Maybe he was just biding his time," Moody pointed out. "Waiting for a chance to start weeding out those who _don't_ come from pureblood legacies and start what Slytherin desired to do all those centuries ago."

"_That will _do_, Alastor_!" Dumbledore, roared, letting his anger take over.

James couldn't help the slight gasp that escaped him. This was the first time he saw Albus Dumbledore—not as the kindly professor or the wise headmaster, but a great and powerful wizard.

Hearing a loud 'bang', James jumped as the door swung open. "I'll come back," James said, quickly, preferring to wait until _after_ the headmaster had cooled off a bit.

"And I suppose _you_ also think that Tom Marvolo Riddle is innocent in all this too, hmm?" Moody asked, both his normal eye and the magical one fixed on him.

"You're talking about a man who opened his own home to muggleborns students every summer and holiday when their own families didn't want the 'freak children' around," James countered as he walked into the room, calmly closing the door behind him. "Someone who has personally held study halls just so everyone can catch up on their assignments, whether it was for his class or not. Professor Riddle has _always_ encouraged his students—past and present—to come to him with any problem, no matter how small or mundane." Shaking his head, James added, "If anything, he might be overly strict of the pureblood students, punishing them more severely when they go after halfbloods or muggleborns. But setting a dragon on my son? Using magic to force a kelpie to bite a young woman's arm off? I can't see him doing something like that."

Moody frowned at James and Dumbledore before stomping out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

Dumbledore slowly sat down in a nearby chair, suddenly looking all of his 149 years of age. "My apologies, James, that you had to see that."

"Yes, that was… certainly not the reason I came by," James said, quietly. "Might I ask what started the row?"

Dumbledore looked grave as he replied, "Barty Crouch was found dead early this morning in the forest, down by the lake. It appears that he was killed sometime yesterday."

"Killed," James repeated, pulling over another chair and sitting down as well. "You mean 'murdered'."

Nodding, the headmaster looked at the closed door. "Moody believes that—as you no doubt heard—that Professor Tom Riddle has given into his family's past. But I truly cannot believe that he would commit such heinous crimes, particularly against a group to which he belongs." Shaking his head, he turned back to James. "But you came to speak with me regarding…?"

James sat up and asked, "I know that the third task is meant to be a surprise, but I wanted to ask if you could tell me what it is. Harry… He wants to compete." Standing up and pacing the floor, he went on. "Harry has never been one to quit anything he started. He wants to prove to himself that being paralyzed doesn't mean that he's useless. Lily and I tried to talk him out of it, but saying that my son is being obstinate on the subject would be a gross understatement. He's been rather insistent about the whole thing."

A smile began to cross Dumbledore's face as he nodded, thoughtfully. "The final task is an obstacle maze," he said, simply. "Rather straightforward. And if Harry does wish to compete, I will make sure that the Minister of Magic is informed." Seeing James's puzzled expression, he explained. "Cornelius Fudge is taking over the TriWizard Tournament."

* * *

A/N: So this is where I've hit a hiccup in the story. My next big scene will involve the third task and a reveal of the villain. And I WILL NOT talk about who it is.

Anyway, I'm trying to come up with ideas for some transition scenes between this point and the start of the third task. Any and all suggestions are welcome, as is any thoughts on how to handle the various challenges in the maze.


	3. Chapter 3

AUTHOR'S NOTES: So it took me a while to put this chapter together because—as I said at the end of the last chapter—my next big chapter was going to be the Third Task and its aftermath.

Well, after some thought and after flushing out some ideas, I got it done!

Hope everyone enjoys!

Chapter 3

* * *

_Caulfield Hospital_

"Your mother informed mine that you are hoping to compete in the third task," Fleur said as she entered Harry's hospital room later in the afternoon. She was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of track pants and as she sat down by the bed, she reflexively touched what was left of her arm.

Harry nodded at the stump as he inquired, "They couldn't grow it back?"

Fleur shook her silvery blonde hair, but her expression was one of staunch resolve. "_Non,_" she replied, simply. "But I will compete anyway. My mother thinks that the loss of my arm has robbed me of some of my beauty. I do not care. I will not win because I am beautiful. I will win because I will prove that I am the best."

"Agreed," Harry replied, grinning. "Although, don't forget—you've still got me, Krum, _and_ Cedric to contend with."

Smiling good-naturedly in response, Fleur held out a sheet of paper with her address on it. "When this is all over, Harry Potter, I would like it if we could remain friends."

Harry took the paper and after tearing off the bottom half, he took the quill he'd been using to write his Transfiguration essay and wrote down his own address. Handing the paper to Fleur, he said, "I'd like that, too. As long as you don't send any dragons after me."

"Or any underwater creatures after me," Fleur replied, nodding in agreement as she took the paper.

The two sat in silence for a moment or two until Harry brought up a thought that had been bugging him for a few weeks. "This TriWizard Tournament… It's kind of ridiculous, isn't it?" When Fleur gave him an inquisitive look, he explained. "Three students—four, in this case—compete in dangerous challenges… for what? Some prize money and a trophy? What's the real point of it all? What has it gotten you and I, except permanent injuries?"

"What are you suggesting?" Fleur inquired, curiously. "That we do _not_ compete in the final task? Are we allowed to do that? I mean, you were physically incapable of competing in this last task. But I think all of us have to participate in the third, _oui_?"

"I was thinking," Harry went on. "—that we all tie together." Seeing that Fleur was interested in the idea, he laid out his plan. "Whoever sees the TriWizard Cup _first_, sends out a patronus to the others. When we're all together, the four of us grab the cup at the same time."

Fleur thought about the idea, intrigued by the notion considerably. A shared victory would show the school heads that they did not care about besting one another, but rather working together for mutual victory. "I think it is an excellent idea," she said at last. "If Krum and Diggory agree, I will agree as well."

"We'll have to enter the maze separately, of course," Harry added, thoughtfully. "That way everyone thinks we're still competing."

"Your friend, Ronald Weasley, is a fan of Krum's, yes? He could deliver a message for us." The young woman suggested.

"Ron could say he was just getting an autograph from 'Viktor Krum, Bulgarian seeker'," Harry mused, nodding thoughtfully. "Nice."

"Hello, Harry," One of the nurses, Roslyn, said as she came into the room carrying a tray with two insulated cups of tea and plates of small pastries. "I thought the two of you might be hungry." Looking at Harry, she went on. "Your mum said she was bringing some sandwiches for dinner later on."

"I could definitely eat," Harry replied, adjusting the bed so he was sitting up as much as possible while Roslyn lowered the table just a bit more.

One the two teenagers were settled, Roslyn left, closing the door behind her.

"When do you get to go home?" Fleur asked, curiously as she helped herself to a macaron.

Shrugging as he sipped his tea, Harry admitted that he didn't know. "I've started physical therapy, but it could still be months before the healers and doctors let me leave."

Looking at Harry, Fleur couldn't help wondering what exactly that entailed and after a moment, she asked him.

"At this point," Harry explained, simply. "—arm strengthening, primarily. Eventually, learning how to push myself up with my arms since I can't sit up normally."

"I couldn't imagine being in your position, Harry," Fleur said, admiringly. "Being unable to walk, having very little use of your body… Even if you weren't competing in the tournament, I would still admire your courage."

Pointing to Fleur's missing arm, Harry said, "I can't imagine how _you_ must feel. I mean, I'm paralyzed, yes, but my body is still there. You're missing an arm—a body part that you've had forever… that you've used for everything. That can't be easy, either."

Again, Fleur touched what was left of her arm, as she shared what the healers told her about prosthetics. "It may not be as strong or as flexible as my arm," she admitted. "But it will be something, _non_?"

"Let me know when you start getting used to it," Harry said, grinning. "We'll have an arm-wrestling contest." When Fleur looked puzzled at the expression, Harry pointed to the bed near the table. "Sit right there and put your arm on the table, grasping mine," he instructed, putting his right elbow on the table and holding his hand up.

Still perplexed as to what they were doing, Fleur did as told.

* * *

"The usual, Mrs. Potter?"

Lily looked up sharply when she heard someone talking to her and for a second she forgot where she was. After a brief glance around and recognizing the café just down the street from the hospital, she turned her attention to the waitress who was giving her a concerned look. "Oh, I'm… I-I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Did you want your usual breakfast?" Heather repeated, patiently. "Eggs scrambled, sausage, toast, apple cobbler bar for dessert?"

Lily nodded, rubbing the back of her neck as she did so. "Yes, thank you."

Heather went up to the kitchen to put in the order and gave her manager a meaningful look before flicking her eyes over at Lily Potter.

Barbara Henley gave the girl a quick nod of understanding and went over to the coffee bar, preparing a fresh latte before going over to the distraught mother. "A very good friend of mine in New York owns a coffee shop. They roast their own coffee beans and we started buying from them last week." Passing over the latte, Barbara asked, "What do you think?"

Lily took a sip, not really listening, but after a few seconds, she took a second drink. "This is the best coffee I've ever had," she said, looking up. "Where did you say it came from again?"

"From the Village Blend in New York. They source their coffee beans themselves," Barbara repeated. "How's Harry doing? You seem a little… off this morning."

Lily set the cup down and let out a deep sigh. "He's doing alright, no change. He started physical therapy two weeks ago," she added, trying to sound upbeat.

Barbara put a gentle hand on Lily's as she said, "That's good news, right? So hopefully he'll get to go home soon?" Although she tried to smile and sound optimistic, the tremble in Lily's lower lip gave her away. "Oh, sweetheart… It's alright."

"I don't know what we're going to do once Harry comes home," Lily blurted as tears welled up in her eyes. "James and Sirius are working on remodeling the house to make it easier for Harry to get around, building him a custom bathtub… But I was watching him at PT yesterday and he could barely turn over by himself when he was lying on his back. I want Harry to come home but he's still going to need so much help when he does and… And I don't know if I'm ready for that. Part of me—" Immediately, Lily put a hand to her mouth, shaking her head as though she'd been about to say something awful.

"Darling, whatever you need to say—say it. I promise you, I won't tell a soul," Barbara promised.

Lily took another deep breath and replied in a low voice, "I want Harry to stay in the hospital where he can have the doctors and nurses take care of him. I know how horrible that sounds."

But rather than showing disapproval, the café manager just nodded with understanding. "Believe it or not, you're not the first parent I've heard say something like that. Your son is dealing with a devastating injury. I'd be surprised if you told me you _did_ feel prepared for that." Squeezing Lily's arm, she went on. "You're not a bad parent for saying it. And I know that you love your son. You wouldn't be this worried if you didn't." Standing up, she added, "Breakfast is on me, darling. And let me know when you're ready to leave. I'll put together something for Harry."

Taking another deep breath, Lily tried to push her thoughts and worries about Harry and her family out of her mind for a while. She'd been so focused on her son these past months, and hadn't allowed herself any time for her own needs.

Taking a sip of the latte, Lily closed her eyes and carefully savored the flavor of the coffee, enjoying the rich nuttiness of the beans and the aromas of vanilla and caramel.

When her breakfast came, she forced herself to take her time, really tasting the food and not just eating quickly so she could rush back to Harry's side.

Saving the apple cobbler bar for last, Lily was amazed at how wonderful the pastry tasted. The shortbread dough was a perfect base for the caramelized apples flavored with ginger, nutmeg, and cinnamon and the crumbled dough on top was tender and golden brown.

Once everything had been finished, Lily looked at her watch, surprised to see that she'd been at the café for well over an hour.

After leaving a generous tip and collecting a bag full of baked goods from Barbara, she headed back to the hospital and up to Harry's room which was currently empty. After setting the bag on the bedside table, Lily grabbed a change of clothes from the duffel bag Sirius had brought over the previous day and stepped into the private bathroom, locking the door behind her.

After a long, hot shower and a change of clothes, she felt somewhat better and stepped out of the bathroom just as Remus came into the hospital room. "Lily. James was wondering where you'd gotten to. He's with Harry in the physical therapy room, if you were wondering."

Lily nodded as she donned socks and shoes and after a moment, she related her fears and worries about Harry's care once he was out of the hospital. "I just had to take some personal time, Remus," she concluded, trying not to feel guilty about doing so. "So I stayed at the café a little longer and took a long, relaxing shower when I got here."

"I wish you could talk James into doing the same," Remus replied, shaking his head. "He's spending every spare minute trying to figure out what's going on and when he's not playing detective he's working on house renovations. I don't think he's had more than 4 hours' sleep a night since Christmas."

Although she was somewhat relieved to hear that her husband felt the same way she did, Lily also felt overwhelmed once again. Looking at Remus, she let out a long sigh. "James and I need to do better. Neither of us is going to be much help to Harry if we're always trying to do everything ourselves."

"I completely agree," Remus concurred, hugging her. "I promise you—Sirius and I will help out in any way that we can. And I know Harry's brothers and sisters will do the same."

"I know," Lily replied, pulling away. "Dominic and Isabelle can help Harry at Hogwarts next year, but… But is that really fair to them? Making them take care of their brother? I never want my children to resent one another."

Nodding thoughtfully, Remus considered that for a while before he mused, "What about that house elf that Harry befriended in his 2nd year? The one he freed from the Malfoys when Lucius Malfoy tried to use that cursed diary to kill Ginny Weasley?"

Lily's expression turned to one of revulsion at the idea. "Remus, you know how James and I feel about the whole house elf enslavement thing! I absolutely refuse to do that! Especially when the poor creature has already been freed."

Remus held up a hand to calm Lily down before he explained what he was talking about. "Lily, I wasn't talking about enslaving him. I was thinking more about you _hiring_ him. Pay him a fair wage to help Harry at home and at Hogwarts."

Taking a moment to consider the idea, Lily shrugged. "That would help take some of the responsibility off of James's and my shoulders."

"Besides," Remus went on, trying to sound optimistic. "Hopefully, by the time Harry returns to school, he'll be a bit more independent." When Lily looked doubtful at that statement, he shrugged in return. "There are people who are paralyzed who manage to live their lives with minimal assistance. Harry could be one of them."

Although she didn't share Remus's confidence in the extent of Harry's recovery, Lily had to admit that she was more focused on the worst case scenarios rather than the best case. "I'm going to go see how Harry and James are doing," she declared as she headed for the door. Pausing in the doorway, she gave Remus a smile. "Thanks, Moony."

Remus smiled back as he worked on tidying up Harry's hospital room for when the teenager got back.

* * *

When Cedric and Nick arrived at the hospital on a warm spring evening, they stopped in to visit Fleur first.

The young woman was with Dr. Warren and a healer that Nick didn't recognize.

"_Bonjour_," Fleur said brightly, waving her remaining hand to the two young men. "Did you need to talk or…?"

"Just wanted to check on you," Cedric replied as he and Nick stepped closer, noticing that Fleur was being fitted for a prosthetic. "How are you doing?"

Fleur gave a one-shouldered shrug as the healer finished his measurements of the remaining limb and tests on the nerve response. "Feeling a touch overwhelmed, to be honest," she replied as the doctor and healer left the room. "On Monday, I will be starting to use my new arm."

Exchanging a brief look with Cedric, Nick brought up the other reason they'd stopped by. "Tomorrow, there's a support group meeting for teenagers with physical disabilities," Nick explained. "I was hoping to get Harry in since he hasn't really been talking about what happened and how he feels about it."

"You could always come with us," Cedric offered. "Talking might help."

Thinking on the idea for a minute or two, Fleur eventually nodded. "It would be good to discuss what happened to me with others," she agreed. "I will tell my parents about tonight."

After chatting for another 45 minutes or so, Cedric and Nick headed for Harry's room and found Harry just getting back from physical therapy as hospital housekeeping leaving the room.

"How're you doing, little brother?" Nick asked as James grabbed his son a clean change of clothes.

"Give me half an hour," Harry replied. "I had an extra hard therapy session today and I need a shower."

"Of course," Nick said, quickly, nodding. "We'll be here."

Once James and Harry were in the bathroom, Cedric pulled Nick over to the day bed in the corner and the two sat down. Brushing Nick's messy red hair out of his eyes, Cedric gave his boyfriend a tender kiss. "You've got that brooding face. What's wrong?"

Nick shook his head before pulling his hair back in a short ponytail. "What's Harry going to do after he finishes school? I doubt he and Hermione are going to automatically move in together. Is he going to live with Mum and Dad until he finds a place? Hire someone to help him out until he and Hermione get married?"

Cedric pulled Nick close in a one-armed hug and smiled. "You've been worrying too much, Nick."

"He is my brother," Nick protested, pulling away slightly. "I can't _not_ worry about him. And I was thinking about Harry maybe… living with us when he graduates from Hogwarts."

Cedric gave Nick an even look as he considered the statement. The two hadn't really discussed the future so the pseudo-invitation came off as highly unexpected. "You want to move in together after this year?" Cedric inquired, curiously.

"I-If that's alright with you," Nick replied, quickly, hoping he wasn't moving things too fast. Taking his boyfriend's hands in his, he added, "I love you, Cedric. And you and I living together would be wonderful."

Taking a deep breath, Cedric nodded in reply. "I think that sounds like a capital idea. And we'll make sure we find a place that has plenty of room if Harry decides he wants to stay with us." When Nick gave the slightest look of surprise, Cedric smiled. "He's your brother. So that makes him my family, too."

x

When Harry came out of the bathroom shortly after James about 20 minutes later, he was wearing his back brace over a 3/4 length sleeved shirt and a pair of track pants.

After parking his wheelchair next to the bed, James bent down and picked him up while Nick turned the bed down. Once Harry was settled, James left to pick up dinner from a nearby Chinese restaurant and Nick and Cedric took up positions next to the bed.

"So are you going to go to the support meeting tomorrow?" Nick asked, fixing his brother with a look.

Harry shrugged after letting out a long sigh. "I was hoping to rest tomorrow. Today I was trying to climb this rope and I'm really tired and sore."

Cedric caught himself before the words 'I understand' left his mouth. He didn't understand and –he hoped—never would. "The group doesn't meet until later in the afternoon," he threw in, trying not to sound pushy about the issue. "You can rest up tonight and tomorrow morning, sit in on the group for a while, and if you start getting too tired, we'll bring you back. Sound like a fair deal?"

Abandoning all pretense, Nick stated, "Harry, you're not talking about how you feel about being paralyzed. Maybe it's because you want to focus on schoolwork or the third task… Maybe you don't want to burden the family with your problems. I know it's not out of denial."

Harry huffed at the confrontation and looked away. After a long while, he turned back to his brother, rolling his eyes as he spoke. "Fine, I'll go if it will make you happy."

"I'd be happier if you'd talk about things," Nick replied. "But if you're willing to go to the group, I'll take that for now."

"You really want to know how I feel?" Harry snapped, irritably. "Annoyed… at you."

Nick straightened up, surprised at his brother's words. "I'm just trying to help—"

Harry rolled his eyes again and adjusted the bed so he was sitting up as much as possible. "You know, if I was blind or deaf it would be one thing," he went on. "Or even if I lost a limb that wouldn't be too bad because they make prosthetic arms and legs. I can't get a replacement _spine_!" After a moment or two, he continued. "Nick, if I were just paralyzed from the waist down, it would be different. I'd still feel—for the most part—like a normal person. But every time I've thought about going to that support group, I know that, in all likelihood, there wouldn't be anyone there who would understand what I'm going through."

The fight and frustration seemed to go out of Harry and he let out a deep breath. "I'm doing better at pushing myself up when I'm lying down, but I can't sit up on my own. And eventually, I might be able to get in and out of the wheelchair on my own, but more than likely, I'll always have to have someone help me. Other people who are deaf, blind, missing limbs, or paralyzed from the waist down can learn to live on their own. Right now, I need help taking a shower because I can stay upright on my own. That's why I'm so frustrated," Harry concluded. "And I don't really want to sit in a group of people who are going to tell me to be patient and let my body heal or that if I work harder my life will get easier because I can overcome my disability."

Moving so he was sitting on the edge of Harry's bed, Nick took his brother's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry if you feel we've been trying to push you towards recovery. Trust me—the whole family understands that this is going to be a long process. Even with extensive physical therapy, the best we can hope for is you getting the use of your upper body back. And no one is ever even going to _consider_ giving up on you. But the reason we're worried is because you're not telling us how you feel. Even just saying 'I'm frustrated' or 'I'm angry'."

Looking away again for a moment, Harry tried to keep himself composed. "A couple weeks after I first woke up after the first task," he explained, turning his attention back towards Nick. "—I was talking with Mum about my prognosis. We were talking about what it would be like at home with me in the back brace and wheelchair. I started crying and the tracheostomy tube got clogged. The nurses had to sedate me, disconnect the ventilator, suction the trach out and clear the ventilator hose."

"Mum never told me about that," Nick said, worriedly.

Harry gave a light shrug in response. "She didn't want to panic everyone. But I realized that if I was going to be living with the ventilator, I had to try and keep myself from getting too emotional so I didn't cause myself additional problems. Even without the ventilator, I-I think I've been trying to carry on doing that."

"But that's not the only reason you've been shut off, is it?" Cedric asked, curiously.

Shaking his head, Harry looked down at his body and replied, "Getting emotional isn't going help me get the use of my upper body back. It's not going to help me walk again." Even though his brother was trying to sound composed, Nick heard the slight choke in Harry's voice when he mentioned walking. "I hate not having control over my body," Harry went on. "—not being able to feel it. Even when someone hugs me, it feels strange because I can't _physically_ feel the embrace."

"So it's easier just to push all of that aside," Nick concluded. "—and focus on PT, school…"

"Yeah. Pretty much," Harry murmured. Sniffling, he soon found himself crying openly and in a flash, Nick had pulled him into a hug. Wrapping his arms around his big brother, Harry let himself sob until he felt completely drained.

"Just get some rest, little brother," Nick whispered as he carefully eased Harry back and lowered the bed before removing his brother's glasses and covering him with the blankets.

* * *

_Hogwarts Castle_

Walking calmly into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on a warm Saturday evening, Dumbledore looked about the room, thinking on how many times he'd had students tell him that this was their favorite class.

Or when a student facing trouble at home had asked for help because Professor Riddle gave them the courage to talk about their problems.

Heading up the stairs to Tom Riddle's office, the headmaster rapped on the open door a few times before entering.

"Come to give me the sack, Dumbledore?" Riddle said, quietly, as he lay on the couch in the corner.

As Dumbledore drew closer, he saw that the teacher's eyes were closed and there was a large scrapbook open on the table beside him along with a half-full bottle of 20-year-old bourbon and a glass. "And why would I do such a thing?" Dumbledore asked, taking a seat in the armchair nearby.

"Because Mad-Eye Moody believes that I have reverted to the evil ways of my ancestor," Riddle replied, eyes still closed and his tone even. "I'm the descendant of Salazar Slytherin and all the witches and wizards of my bloodline before me have been muggle-hating racists."

Leaning back in his chair, Dumbledore's blue eyes grew stormy as he said, "Alastor does not know you the way I know you, Tom."

Opening his eyes, Riddle sat up, a wry smile on his face as he poured himself a drink. "Yes, you know more about my past than anyone else. Not even the Ministry of Magic knows the full story of Tom Marvolo Riddle." After knocking back his drink in one gulp, he laughed before pouring himself another. "And before you even ask, sir… Yes. I am quite drunk at the moment."

"_In vino veritas_," Dumbledore muttered to himself, shaking his head when Riddle gave him a questioning look. "Talking to myself, Tom," the headmaster explained before conjuring a glass and pouring himself a taste of the bourbon. "Why have you never told anyone else what really happened to you as a child?"

Scoffing derisively, Riddle sipped his drink, waving away the question as though it were an annoying fly. "They never believed me back then. And you think—with all the suspicion Moody has been drumming up—anyone would believe me now?"

"I believed you," Dumbledore reminded him. "I saw you that day, remember? A poor, helpless child—merely two weeks after your 8th birthday… I saw what happened to the man that attacked you… to the family that was supposed to care for you."

Riddle went silent as he remembered the day of his 8th birthday.

The couple who had adopted him from the orphanage when he was 5 years old had used him as a slave while they entertained their rich friends. He wasn't allowed to go to school or leave the house. He was beaten whenever his 'master' felt he deserved it.

Then, one day, a man from the bank had come, claiming that the couple hadn't paid their taxes in years and had used multiple illegal business dealings to generate their wealth.

The wife knew the man from the bank had unsavory predilections and had dragged Tom out, shoving him towards the bank manager in exchange for his cooperation in covering everything up.

His 8th birthday, Tom Marvolo Riddle was raped 8 times.

8 times, he tried screaming for help, causing the man to grab a tire iron and strike him repeatedly, resulting in 8 broken bones.

Tom had passed out at some point, but not before his magic went haywire and a bedsheet wrapped itself around the man's neck before stringing him up, killing him.

It had been while he was recovering in the hospital that Tom Riddle met Sylvia and Garrett Valentine and found himself in their care. The two doctors had given their adopted son as much love, support, and encouragement as they could, doing their best to undo the emotional and psychological damage inflicted on the boy.

Setting his empty glass on the table, Riddle looked up at Dumbledore. "You believed me back then, when I said that I didn't mean to kill that man. Please tell me you believe me now when I say that I would never mean to harm any of my students."

Dumbledore took a moment to finish his own drink before responding. "I do believe you, Tom. And I know when this is all over, the truth will come out."

Pouring himself one more drink, Riddle raised his glass with a drunken smile. "Here's to the truth." Seeing the headmaster eyeing the open scrapbook with interest, he pointed at it. "Have a look, if you like."

Taking the book and perusing the pictures within, Dumbledore saw scribbled messages from students past and present as they waved.

"Penelope Tuppman," Riddle said, reflectively, pointing to one girl on the page. She was barely smiling and kept fidgeting nervously. "Remember her? After I wrote her parents about the problems she was having in Charms class with haphazard magic bursts and difficulty with wandwork, they wrote back, explaining about Penny's autism. She's now working with other witches and wizards who are autistic—helping them with controlling their magic and teaching other kids the best way to calm themselves in class when they get stressed."

"Nathaniel Naylor," Dumbledore said, turning to a page near the back. Nathaniel was with his friends who were charming water balloons to drop on his head. "His parents divorced in his 5th year."

"When they wouldn't stop fighting over the summer and holidays, he stayed with me," Riddle remembered. "Last I heard, he's at a muggle college, studying to be a social worker."

On the very last page, Dumbledore saw a picture of Cedric Diggory and Nicholas Potter, smiling as they shared a hug. After a moment, Cedric kissed Nick, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's neck. "When was this taken?"

"The Yule Ball," Riddle replied, looking at the photograph. "McGonagall won the pool that night, remember?" Looking at the two teenagers making out, Riddle took the scrapbook and closed it, setting it aside before pointing to a shelf on the bookcase nearby. "So many students… So many times I've helped someone in need. And despite all the good I've done, it could all be ruined."

Playing devil's advocate, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Moody has to consider every possibility… no matter how far-fetched."

"Oh, well then," Riddle snipped, sarcastically. "Maybe he'll be investigating _you_ next, Dumbledore."

"I'll let that slide," Dumbledore replied, evenly. "—as I suspect that's the bourbon talking." After a few moments, he added, "And as far as things I know about you, Tom, I seem to remember you swearing to never drink again after that fight you had with Lucius Malfoy."

Again, the DADA professor felt himself getting lost in his own memories—although the fight in question was fairly recent. Once again, Lucius Malfoy had invited Riddle to Malfoy Manor and plied him with ample amounts of alcohol in an effort to persuade the professor to join Malfoy's group of pureblood bigots. Except this time, Malfoy refused to accept 'no' as an answer and eventually drew his wand on Riddle.

When a poorly aimed spell accidentally struck Lucius's son, Draco, Riddle knocked Lucius out with a punch to the face that knocked him into the wall.

After making sure the boy was alright, Riddle swore to himself that he would never be drawn into drinking heavily again, lest he inadvertently harm another student.

But after hearing Mad-Eye Moody accuse him of crippling two students and murdering Barty Crouch, Riddle withdrew to his chambers, pulling out an old, unopened bottle of bourbon and taking a swig before pulling out his student scrapbooks, getting lost in his memories.

"Couldn't think of a better companion into the past," Riddle replied, shrugging. Rubbing his face with one hand, he chuckled, softly. "I'll regret it in the morning, I'm sure."

"Then perhaps I should take this with me," Dumbledore said as he stood, picking up the liquor bottle.

"Good idea," Riddle muttered, laying down on the couch and closing his eyes once more. He was asleep in moments and wasn't even aware of Dumbledore covering him with an afghan that was hanging across the back.

xxxxxx

As he'd expected, the following morning, Tom Riddle awoke with a terrible hangover. Wondering for a brief moment how he was going to handle teaching when it felt like a pair of hippogriffs had been tap-dancing on his head all night, a glance at the date book on his desk reminded him that it was only Sunday.

Staggering into his personal chambers, Riddle indulged in a long, hot shower before getting redressed and going back to his office where a tea tray was waiting for him with some buttered toast, a small dish of strawberry jam, a pair of poached eggs, and a grilled quartered tomato.

Picking up the note on the tray, Riddle chuckled quietly to himself as he read the headmaster's missive.

'_I thought you might not be in the mood to come down to the Great Hall for breakfast so I had your favorites brought up._

_A.P.W.B.D.'_

"Why the bloody Hell you always feel the need to initial your _whole_ name, Albus, I will never know," Riddle muttered to himself, before retrieving a small vial of hangover remedy. After downing the potion, he brought the breakfast tray over to the desk along with another set of scrapbooks.

As he ate, he cursed himself for getting drunk the previous night. Not only was it incredibly unprofessional—he was in a _school_ for heaven's sake!—but it also had done nothing to change anyone's opinion of him. It was the foolish actions of young man, not a seasoned professor responsible for sculpting young minds.

Pausing at one scrapbook page, Riddle looked at the face of a much, _much_ younger Severus Snape. Snape had been a strange case both as a student, and as a colleague. As a student, the boy possessed an incredible proficiency for potionmaking. He'd even been well known for scribbling his own notes in his textbooks about adjustments and alterations to potions recipes.

Still, Severus was a loner and outside of his studies, he had very few interactions with his fellow students. The only exception to that case was Lily Evans who had been his only friend until their 5th year when some unknown confrontation ended in a permanent rift between the two. The rift had only been shakily repaired many years later when Lily asked Snape to be the godfather of her two daughters.

Once Severus Snape had grown up, he had repeatedly expressed a desire to teach at Hogwarts and he'd been especially keen to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts with his focus being the most sinister of dark beasts and the most dangerous of curses.

Afraid that teaching such subjects might one day cause Snape to—for lack of a better phrase—go Dark Side, Riddle had insisted to Dumbledore that Snape be hired as Potions Master.

Dumbledore had acquiesced, of course, but Riddle could sense the resentment from the moment Snape began his teaching career. Through the years, many students had expressed criticism in one way or another of Snape and his teaching methods, but one thing remained interestingly consistent: the lowest score any student received on their O.W.L. and N.E.W.T exams was an 'Acceptable'.

Snape may have been a stern teacher and heartily disliked, but he had yet to give up on _any_ student, even those who displayed little to no obvious talent in Potions.

Hearing a knock on the door to his chambers, Riddle pulled himself out of his thoughts and stood, wondering if it was Dumbledore come to make sure he wasn't still drinking.

'_I heard about what happened with Alastor Moody.'_Isabelle Potter's note read as she held up her notebook. _'I wanted to see if you were okay.'_

Giving the young girl a warm smile, Riddle stepped aside to let her in, leading her over to the couch and gesturing for her to take a seat while he sat in the armchair Dumbledore had occupied the previous night. "I would like to say that I'm alright, but I'm afraid I'd be lying to you," Riddle replied, a cheerless expression on his face.

Pulling out her favorite pen, Isabelle wrote a reply before holding up the notebook. _'Dad said that Moody thinks you hurt Fleur Delacour and my brother somehow. I don't buy it.'_

"Why not?" Riddle inquired, wondering if the young girl's defense of him was out of a general sense of loyalty or a conclusion born of sound reasoning.

Isabelle took her time with her response, trying to articulate as best she could why she believed in Professor Riddle. '_Cedric told me what you said to him about your adoptive _and_ biological parents. Besides, all the things you've done to help the students of this school… And I don't just mean homework. I'm talking about _really_ helping us. I can't imagine someone being that kind and generous, but also so evil and cruel.'_

Reading Isabelle's answer, Riddle couldn't help but smile. Looking up at her as he handed back the notebook, he said, "I truly value the support." Gesturing to the scrapbooks still on the coffee table, he went on. "And I expect I'd have dozens—if not hundreds—of defenders to plead my case, should it come to that. I also want you to know that I also deeply appreciate you coming to check on me. That was certainly not something I'd expected."

With a silent giggle, Isabelle penned another missive, holding out the notebook as she pointed to the door. _'Oh, I'm not the only one, Professor. I was just first in line.'_

Puzzled, Riddle set the notebook down and headed for his classroom, stopping dead as he saw the room packed with students from every house and year. "What…?"

"We heard about what Alastor Moody was accusing you of," Neville Longbottom spoke up from the front of the crowd. "And we all wanted to say how much we believe you when you say that you didn't try to hurt Harry or Fleur."

"We also wanted to give you these," Cho Chang added, stepping forward and handing over a large spiral notebook.

Riddle opened it to find every page filled with notes and messages of support from his students, past and present.

"We even wrote to the Daily Prophet," Fred Weasley piped up.

"Told them Moody's theory about you had more holes in it that a slice of Swiss cheese," George Weasley continued.

By the time Tom Riddle had thanked each and every student in the room, he could no longer hold back the tears.

* * *

_Caulfield Hospital_

After just under 3 and a half months of physical therapy—which included lifting, stretching, and strength-building exercises—and active occupational therapy, Harry felt he was definitely making progress towards some sort of recovery.

Lying on a short stack of mats in the PT room, Harry reached up and grabbed the climbing robe dangling right above him, pulling himself upwards until he was nearly standing.

"Great job, Harry!" Carla Watkins, his physical therapist, said jovially as she watched her patient steadily lower himself to the ground. Bringing Harry's wheelchair over, she asked, "Now… how about you try climbing up here next?"

After a few minutes, Harry had managed to move himself over to the edge of the mats and once his legs were hanging over, he pushed up with both hands before reaching with one hand, eventually getting enough momentum that he could grab the arm of the arm of the wheelchair.

"Alright, you're doing just fine," Carla encouraged him as Harry took a breather, one hand on the mats and the other on the wheelchair.

Harry took a deep breath, readying himself for the next step, which was always the hardest. Since he couldn't use his upper body to pull himself into the wheelchair's seat, he had to pull himself upright and forward at the same time with just his arms.

Reaching forward quickly so he stayed upright, Harry slowly pulled himself into the seat, using one arm to keep himself upright while he used the other to move the rest of his body into position.

Once he was settled, Harry let himself relax for a moment before lifting himself upwards a bit so as to be seated more securely. "That's a bloody pain," he stated, breathing heavily as his shoulders, upper back, and arms ached and throbbed.

After letting Harry have a 10 minute rest, Carla pointed over to the mats again. "I want you to try the rope one more time before we call it a day."

Maneuvering his wheelchair around so he was facing the mats, Harry reached one hand towards the mats while pushing off against the back of the wheelchair with the other. Between pulling himself forward and pushing himself up, Harry managed to get back on the mats and over to the climbing rope.

It took a bit longer than before, but slowly and steadily, Harry climbed upwards until his feet were just barely touching the mats. Lowering himself down until he was lying down, he couldn't wait for a good long rest.

"I think that's good enough for today," Carla said as Harry took a good, long breather. "You're doing really well, Harry. I'm very impressed."

"Can I have the weekend off?" Harry asked, hopefully as he slowly pushed himself up so he was in an upright position. "I'm seriously worn-out."

Picking the teenager up and moving him into the wheelchair, Carla considered the notion for a while before nodding. "On one condition," she added, once Harry was situated. "You have to use the transfer rig when you're getting in or out of bed."

Although Harry didn't like the contraption she spoke about, he begrudgingly agreed.

Once upstairs in his room, Harry was surprised to find Hermione and Isabelle waiting for him. "Where are Mum and Dad?" he asked his sister as he parked the wheelchair by the bed.

"They went home for the weekend," Hermione explained, watching as the physical therapist adjusted the transfer rig for Harry.

Once the handle bar was lowered enough for Harry to reach it, he pulled himself up while Carla moved the wheelchair away before she pulled the rig's seat down and over, watching the teenager carefully lower himself down so he was sitting on the seat. Rotating the entire device so that it was over Harry's bed, she gently lowered the seat and slid it out from underneath Harry.

"Alright, you're good to go," Carla stated once Harry was comfortable. "I'll see you on Monday."

"Bye," Harry waved, turning his attention to his sister. "So where are they?"

'**Sirius and Remus talked Mum and Dad into taking the weekend off,'** Isabelle explained. **'They've been so focused on you that they needed a break. But,'** she added, quickly. **'They said they'd come straight away if you need them. Right now Sirius is picking up pizza for dinner.'**

"Harry, they're not taking a break because they don't want to be with you," Hermione explained when she saw her boyfriend's stunned expression. "They've been tired and stressed out for months now and Sirius and Remus thought they needed a bit of downtime to catch up on some sleep and just be together alone."

Nodding, Harry gave a small shrug. "No, you—You're right," Harry agreed. "Mum and Dad have been here almost nonstop since I was hurt. They need a break."

'**And in Potter-speak,'** Isabelle signed with a grin on her face. **'—that means 'I'm not **_**really**_** okay with the idea but I'm going to **_**act**_** like I'm okay with it because that's just what we do in my family.''**

Hermione went to sit on the edge of Harry's bed, taking his hand in hers. "Is that true?"

After a few moments, Harry nodded, sniffling as he did so. "In PT today, I, uh… I just… and really this whole week I've just been thinking about when I get out of here. Just little things like sitting up or getting out of bed. You know, all the things…. That I used to take for granted." Once he'd calmed down a bit, Harry went on. "You know, getting stabbed in the stomach by a dragon's tail would have been bad enough. I'd still be paralyzed, but at least I'd have my upper body strength. But no. The bloody creature had to fling me off of his tail and onto a pile of rocks!"

"You didn't fly off," Hermione said, quietly, as she remembered that day. When Harry looked puzzled by that statement, she gestured to Isabelle. "Your family, the Weasleys and I… we saw the dragon's tail—the spikes—stab you and…"

Isabelle's hands shook slightly as she signed, describing what they all saw. **'You were still stuck on the spikes when you hit the rocks. There was a sharp edge on the boulder you hit and that's how you fractured your thoracic vertebrae.'**

"The larger bone fragments cut into your spinal cord," Hermione explained. "That's what paralyzed you from the chest down. And you're right," she added, sadly. "The dragon's tail did the initial damage but if you _had_ been flung off, it's possible the injuries to your upper back wouldn't have been so severe."

"Since there wouldn't have been the weight of fully grown dragon's tail behind the impact," Harry concluded. Thinking back on the first task, he found he couldn't remember much other than pain after the tail spikes pierced him. There was stabbing pain… throbbing pain… and for a brief moment before most of his body went numb, it felt like something was shredding his insides.

And now, Harry thought as he looked at his body, there was nothing. It was one of the things that still seemed confusing to him. He could reach out a hand and touch his middle or his leg but it felt like the rest of his body was detached.

As if sensing Harry's mood, Hermione squeezed Harry's hand, bringing him out of his reverie. "You can tell me, you know? What you're feeling? I love you, Harry. If you need to talk, I'm here."

At first, Harry went to adjust the incline of the bed so he was sitting up more, but he stopped. "Other than pain," he replied, honestly. "—I'm not sure how I feel. Am I angry this happened? Yes. Do I feel frustrated when I try and do simple things like rolling over or sitting up on my own? Of course. But I can't undo what's happened to me and whatever I feel isn't going to give me the use of my body back." After a moment, he gave Hermione's hand a squeeze in return and he added, "I feel trapped, honestly. Like I'm buried in concrete up to my shoulders." Gesturing to the transport rig, he went on. "And any time I want to get in or out of bed I have to use something like this, someone has to lift me, or I have to struggle to pull myself in or out of the wheelchair."

Understanding that Harry was trying to give her a clear understanding of what their future together might be like, Hermione let go of his hand and moved closer, leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. "Harry, I know this isn't going to be easy. And there are going to be plenty of challenges for us. But that doesn't scare me." Kissing him again, she added, "Life without you does."

When Harry put his arms around Hermione to kiss her back, he inadvertently pulled her on top of him so she was half laying on him.

"O-kay," Sirius said as he entered the room carrying two large pizzas and a large shopping bag full of drinks. "Harry, if you're going to try and… shoot a goal, make sure your curtains are closed first."

Hermione quickly got to her feet, her face flushed red with embarrassment.

"Thanks for the warning," Harry chastised his sister who was looking incredibly amused by the whole thing.

'**Oh, I'm sorry. Next time you're snogging your girlfriend, I'll shout louder," **Isabelle snarked, signing the word for 'shout' with enthusiasm. **'Oh, wait. You wouldn't be able to hear me anyway.'**

"Alright, sis," Harry retorted, giving his younger sister a meaningful look. "Let's talk about you and Ron, shall we?"

'**We may have snuck out of the castle for a quiet visit to Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks,'** Isabelle admitted. **'And there may or may not have been some mild kissing involved.'**

"No, according to Fred, George, Ginny, _and_ Neville, the two of you looked like a pair of fighting octopi," Hermione reported.

Isabelle jumped up and turned to Harry, a reproving look in her eye as she pointed to Hermione. **'Did you tell your girlfriend to spy on me and my boyfriend?'**

"Boyfriend?" Harry repeated, quickly pushing himself upright. "You're 12 years old! You shouldn't even be _dating_ yet, let alone making out with anyone!"

'**It was one time,'** Isabelle insisted, looking both defensive and nervous. **'And it didn't last that long. Ron stopped things pretty quickly when we both realized what we were doing.'** When she heard Sirius set the pizzas down, she asked, **'You're not going to tell Mum and Dad, are you?'**

"Tell them about what?" Sirius asked, innocently. "That you, an impressionable young woman, saw your older brother snogging his girlfriend?" His expression turned somber for a moment as he added, "I won't say anything about you and Ron, but given that you are 2 years younger than him, he and I are going to have a talk about acceptable behavior and consent."

Isabelle nodded as Sirius proceeded to pass out plates, drinks, and pizza.

Harry adjusted the bed so it was easier for him to remain upright and dug in. After finishing his second slice, he asked, "So how are renovations on the house going?"

Sirius wiped his hands on a napkin before explaining what had been going on. "James put in a shower with a swing-out bench seat for you and lowered your sink and counter for better access. There's also a new Jacuzzi tub for you, if you want to soak. As for your bedroom, your new bed has an adjustable incline and we've put in lower racks in your closet and a shorter and wider dresser."

"Mum said she was thinking about putting a lift in so it was easier for me to get upstairs," Harry piped up. "How's that going?"

"It should all be ready by the time you get to come home," Sirius promised.


	4. Chapter 4

AUTHOR'S NOTES: So obviously I had to change up the challenges in the Third Task but I also included Professor Riddle's pet snake to answer the question of "Is Tom Riddle still a parselmouth in this story?" Short answer—yes, but he doesn't actually use the skill like you would expect. You'll see what I mean shortly.

Chapter 4

* * *

_The Third Task_

The morning of the third task, Harry was stunned by the sheer number of people gathered about the Hogwarts grounds, most of who were camped out in and around the quidditch pitch which was serving as the maze entrance.

Inside the pitch, where the three huge goal posts usually stood, Harry shifted slightly in his wheelchair, nervously awaiting the start of the task. The past three months—when he wasn't practicing defensive and offensive spells—he'd been in the PT wing of the hospital, building up his arm strength and working on moving around and sitting up on his own. Just the previous day, he'd actually been able to get in and out of his wheelchair multiple times with no assistance.

Still, Harry knew that whatever lay within the maze could very well prove dangerous, no matter how his physical strength was progressing. Catching his parents' looks, he straightened up as best he could, determined to show that he was fine.

"You're going to send up red sparks _the second_ you're in trouble, right?" Lily asked, pointedly as she gave Harry a hug and a 'good luck' kiss.

"I'll be fine, Mum," Harry assured her as he hugged back. "Don't worry about me."

"Little chance of that, Harry," Nick promised, giving his little brother a fist bump. "Mum's already got me promising to go in after you if you're not back in two hours."

After a chorus of encouragement from the rest of his family, Harry went over to where Krum, Fleur, and Cedric were standing near the mouth of the maze with Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge.

"Mr. Diggory will go first," Fudge explained, simply. "Followed by Mr. Krum, Miss Delacour, and finally, Mr. Potter."

"Each of you is armed only with your wands and your wits," Dumbledore went on, giving Harry a raised eyebrow before eying the young man's wheelchair.

"This thing doesn't exactly come with an armory, sir," Harry said, looking slightly offended that he would be accused of going in with an unfair advantage.

"When you see the sparks that correspond with the colors of your uniform," Fudge explained, indicating the long sleeved shirts each champion wore. "—you may enter the maze."

As the Minister of Magic and the Hogwarts headmaster backed away, the four champions exchanged a look and the slightest of nods before turning back to the maze entrance.

Getting ready for when he saw the yellow sparks, Cedric jumped and whirled around when he heard Nick screaming from where he now stood in the stands, "I LOVE YOU, CEDRIC! GOOD LUCK!"

Cedric beamed and waved back just as a shower of yellow sparks shot into the air. "I LOVE YOU, TOO, NICK!" he shouted back before blowing his boyfriend a kiss and turning to enter the maze.

Krum went in next when he saw the crimson sparks in the air and shouted something in Bulgarian to his family before the maze closed behind him for a moment.

When the hedges parted again, Krum had disappeared and it was Fleur's turn. Seeing the blue sparks, she called to her little sister, Gabrielle, in French before heading into the maze.

When it was Harry's turn, he thought of how it would feel to come back out, the four champions holding up the TriWizard Cup, and he shot off a stag patronus which cantered about for a while before rushing his family, disappearing just as it reached them.

Once he was in the maze, the hedges closed behind him, blocking all the noise from the crowds. Heading forward, Harry headed to the left, keeping his ears and eyes open for any threats. His wand was in a holder next to the wheelchair controls and within easy reach should anything happen.

x

After half an hour and multiple wrong turns, Cedric knew he was lost. Even with using his guidance spell, he still found himself turned about.

"Are you looking for ssssssomeone?" a soft, sibilant voice whispered from the hedge to Cedric's left.

After a few minutes of searching, he finally found the speaker, a brown and green garter snake nearly two feet long. "A talking snake," he said when the serpent repeated the question. "How is a snake talking?"

The snake let out what seemed to be a laugh and slithered down to the ground, coiling about 3 feet away from Cedric. "Professsssssor Riddle charmed me sssssso I could ssssssspeak Englishhhhh," the snake replied.

"Wait, you're Merope!" Cedric exclaimed, finally recognizing the snake. "Professor Riddle's pet snake. He named you after his biological mother." Looking about the maze, he asked, "How'd you get outside?"

"Hunting," the snake replied, simply. "Come… Follow me."

Not sure of how else to find his way, Cedric lit his wand using an illumination spell, the better to keep track of the snake.

x

After encountering two fire crabs, a boggart pretending to be a dementor, and a sphinx, Harry felt worn out. But, if he was right, he was definitely getting close to the center of the maze where the cup had been placed.

"Harry, look out!"

Harry barely had time to turn around and move out of the way before a giant spider was charging up the path ahead. Looking to see who had shouted the warning, he saw Fleur racing towards him, firing stunning spells at the arachnid to drive it backwards. "I've got a better idea!" Harry called out, aiming his wand at the creature's legs and firing a spell to shoot a length of rope at the eight hairy legs. The rope wound its way in between and around the legs before pulling tight, bringing all the limbs together and causing the spider to crash to the ground.

"That was bracing," Harry said, securing his wand and heading towards Fleur. "You alright?"

Fleur nodded before pointing to a path to the left. "This way. It'll take us a little longer, but unless you want to try and squeeze past that monster…"

Withdrawing his wand again, Harry looked from Fleur to the spider. "Or we could just move it out of the way."

Between the two of them, they were able to clear the path and continued forward, looking around for the next threat as they went.

There was a slight hissing sound coming from up ahead and both teenagers kept their wands at the ready as they advanced together. Stopping at the corner, Harry held up three fingers before pointing around the hedge.

Understanding that Harry meant that they should round the corner on a count of three, Fleur nodded, adjusting her grip on her wand as she did so.

'Three… two… one!' Harry mouthed before zipping around the hedge, startling Cedric who quickly held his hands up. "It's alright! It's me!" Lowering his hands when he saw that no one was attacking him, he asked, "Are you two alright? I heard a crash a moment ago."

Harry pointed over his shoulder, grinning as he saw the shocked expression on Cedric's face.

"That's a big, _big_ spider," Cedric said, amazed as well as a bit scared. "Maybe we should keep moving?" Bending down, he picked Merope up, holding her in his hand while letting Harry and Fleur go past him.

"Why are you holding a snake?" Fleur asked, brow furrowed in confusion as she passed.

"Professor Riddle's snake," Cedric clarified. "Her name is Merope. He did some spell on her years ago so they can talk to each other. She says she knows how to get to the center of the maze." Harry and Fleur stopped and turned to look at Cedric who seemed perplexed by their reactions. "What?"

"Cedric, you're taking directions from a talking snake—which is strange enough by itself—and you didn't bother asking how she got all the way out here?"

"I wassssss hunting," Merope hissed, calmly. "I came into this maze by missssstake a month ago. I have been here ever ssssssince."

"Right," Harry muttered, turning around again. "Sorry."

"Apology accepted," Merope replied. Looking about at the next intersection, she flicked her tongue, tasting the air. "Left," she said, simply.

"Whoa, whoa," Cedric whispered, holding his free had up and looking to the right. "Something is coming."

There was a rush of air which kept blowing dust and debris everywhere and everyone ducked their heads and headed forward, shouting back and forth to make sure they all stayed together and in the same direction.

When the wind died down, the three stopped for a breather which was quickly interrupted by a crashing noise to the right. Cedric stepped forward, wand out with Fleur next to him, both of them shielding Harry from whatever was coming to attack.

For a moment, there was silence and then a huge bear patronus came charging around the corner, letting out a silent bellow before turning and going back where it came from. A minute or two later, Krum appeared, his clothes still smoking slightly. "Fire crabs," he explained, pointing in the direction he had come. "They are heading this way. Five of them."

"Then let's go this way," Cedric instructed, pointing to the left. Looking at Merope, he asked, "Are we getting close?"

This time, when the garter snake tasted the air, she gave a loud, fearful hiss. "Danger! Ahead! Sssssssnakessss! Lotsssss of them!"

"Snakes," Harry said with a derisive laugh. "A whole host of magical creatures to choose from and someone went with a load of garden snakes."

But when the group heard a buzzing rattle, they froze, realizing suddenly that these weren't a bunch of harmless snakes, but venomous ones. Getting closer, Cedric lit his wand, raising it high so they could see that the next 100 feet was strewn with rattlesnakes, some of which had even settled into the hedges.

"Well, bugger," Harry said, counting at least 35 snakes, the smallest of which seemed to be around 3 feet long.

"I might have an idea," Cedric said, looking at the path for a moment before pointing his wand at the nearest hedge and setting fire to it, making the rattlesnakes scramble as they raced away from the flames.

As everyone started to head down the path, however, the remaining snakes buzzed their tails even louder and several struck out at the teenagers.

One snake came within a hair's breadth of Fleur's leg, making her yelp and jump backwards into Krum who immediately put an arm around her protectively as he as he used his wand to fling the snake away. "Stay close," Krum warned as they continued on their way.

Since the wheelchair provided ample protection, Harry took the lead with Cedric and Krum behind him shooting fireballs at various points to drive the snakes away.

Fleur kept looking back, flinging away any rattlesnakes that attempted to chase them.

When they reached the end of the snakes, Cedric tossed a small rock in front of the snakes and used an engorgement charm to turn the rock into a massive boulder that kept the snakes from following.

"We are clossssssse," Merope hissed, getting her bearings.

"Good," Harry said, looking at his watch. "Because Mum and Dad are going to be coming in after me in about 40 minutes."

Winding along the maze, Krum pointed to a large open area up ahead where a cup was set upon a short stone pillar. "We've found it," he said, smiling at his compatriots.

"Let's not celebrate just yet," Cedric warned, looking around. "We have to get there first." Taking a few steps forward, he dove to the ground as a bludger zoomed straight at him. "Get down!" he warned, suddenly remembering that such an action wasn't an option for Harry. Grabbing a branch off the nearest hedge and transforming it into a beater's bat, Cedric tossed it to Harry who immediately swung it at a second bludger.

Krum did the same with more branches, tossing one to Fleur before putting the other to use himself.

Getting to the pillar, the four competitors exchanged a look while watching for the bludgers still flying about.

"We are all in agreement?" Krum asked, his hand hovering over one handle along with Cedric's.

"Together," Cedric nodded, decisively.

"_Oui_, together," Fleur agreed as Harry got as close as he could to the pillar. Bending down so he could put an arm around her shoulder, she lifted him up a bit so he could get a better reach and waited until Harry put his hand in position.

"On three," Cedric said, nodding at the others.

"One…" Harry said, nodding back.

"_Deux_," Fleur replied.

"Three," they all said at once, grabbing the handles of the cup simultaneously.

The second their hands touched the cup, each was alarmed when they suddenly realized that the cup had been turned into a portkey. Before any of them could shout a warning, they were suddenly transported from the Hogwarts grounds to an old graveyard where the four landed with a crash.

After a minute or two to recover from getting the wind knocked out of him, Cedric scrambled to his feet and went over to Harry who was lying on the ground next to his wheelchair which Krum had already set upright before checking on Fleur.

"Harry!" Cedric cried, looking over his boyfriend's brother. "Are you alright? Is anything broken?"

Harry groaned as he managed to pull himself into an upright position, leaning against the wheelchair as he did so. "Dunno about my legs," he replied, feeling his side and giving a hiss of pain when he found two broken ribs. "But my ribs are a definite."

"Wait…" Cedric said, a look of happy surprise on his face. "You can feel your ribs?"

Harry gave a dry chuckle and nodded. "If I'd have known a hard knock to the ground would fix the injuries to my upper back, I'd have done it months ago."

"Well, let's make sure you don't mess those ribs up," Cedric warned, pointing his wand at Harry's middle after removing the back brace. Once Harry's ribs were bandaged, he helped put the brace back on before getting the younger teen back in the wheelchair.

Fleur and Krum looked a bit roughed up but both confirmed that they were fine.

"Alright, wands out," Cedric advised, looking around. "I highly doubt this is part of the task."

"You don't say," Harry said, sardonically as he looked around.

"You lot couldn't follow a simple instruction, could you?" The four went on high alert as a tall, thin man came out from behind a large stone statue of the Grim Reaper. "Only one of you was supposed to be sent here, but noooo…" Krum was about to fire a spell at the stranger when the man flicked his wand and brought out the bound and gagged form of—

"Professor Riddle!" Cedric shouted, starting to make a dash to rescue the teacher.

"Ah, ah, ah!" the stranger said, putting the tip of his wand against Riddle's throat. "Not so fast, my friend. No one makes a move or your beloved professor dies horribly and painfully."

Harry put his wand away and held his hands up, giving the others a look that said that they should do likewise.

"That's better," the man said, licking his lips in a very creepy manner. "Now then… I don't believe we've ever actually met. Except you, isn't that right?" he said to Riddle. Turning to the others, he gave a smile and a bow. "Bartemius Crouch, Junior."

"What do you want from us?" Krum asked, watching Crouch's every move. The man was clearly unstable and unpredictable.

Crouch threw Riddle to the ground before giving him a good kick in the side. "Funny story," he explained, his eyes darting about in a crazed manner. "When I was a child, my father took me to the Ministry of Magic with him. I found my way into the Hall of Prophecy and while I was investigating, I found something quite interesting." Pointing his wand at Riddle, he went on. "This pathetic waste was supposed to be the greatest dark wizard ever known. Even worse than old Grindlewald. But instead, he became a teacher and started helping his students. Like you tried to help me, isn't that right?"

"So you were the one who put my name in the Goblet of Fire?" Harry concluded.

Crouch let out a maniacal cackling laugh and used his wand to put Riddle back on his feet before shoving him towards the TriWizard champions who started to undo Riddle's bonds. "Me? No, no, no, no, no. Dear old Professor Riddle did." When the teenagers looked confused by that revelation, Crouch explained. "It was easy to masquerade as my father to get into Hogwarts. After that, I just put an Imperious Curse on Riddle and made him do the deed."

"Why?" Harry wanted to know. "Why put me in the tournament? Because my mother is muggleborn? And what about Fleur? Why hurt her?"

Crouch laughed again as he flitted about the cemetery, keeping his wand pointed at the small group. "I wanted to destroy Riddle. I wanted him to feel lost and abandoned by the students and teachers that admired him so much. You see," he said, pausing for a moment, "—when I heard that prophecy all those years ago, I knew that I was destined to be a servant of the Dark Lord. Of Lord Voldemort." Writing out Professor Riddle's full name with his wand, Crouch rearranged the letters so they spelled out the words 'I am Lord Voldemort.' "I was destined for greatness. To help carry on the work of the Gellert Grindlewald and Salazar Slytherin," he hissed, angrily. "But you stole my destiny from me!" Pointing his wand at Riddle's heart, he added, "I waited and waited for you to come. For you to see the truth. Finally I realized that I had to take control of my own fate. But first," he said, taking a few steps back and redirecting his wand at the teenagers, "I'm going to make you watch as I kill each of these kiddies in front of you."

"I will never become a dark wizard," Riddle promised, moving so that he was standing in front of the others. "I am _not_ 'Lord Voldemort'. I am Tom Riddle, Professor of Hogwarts."

"You put an innocent boy's name in the Goblet of Fire," Crouch scoffed. "You used polyjuice potion to pass as my father so you could make sure Potter here fought the Hungarian Horntail. You set a kelpie on Miss Delacour."

"I didn't!" Riddle shouted, defensively. "I wouldn't!"

"Just like you wouldn't set a basilisk loose in the castle?" Crouch taunted, his eyes glinting maniacally. "You were helping your old friend Rubeus Hagrid hide an acromantula and you accidentally came across Salazar Slytherin's little pet in the Chamber of Secrets. The two of you tried to get the creature out so it could be removed safely but ended up releasing him instead." Licking his lips again, Crouch looked at the four teenagers before finishing the story. "The great snake killed a girl before it was destroyed. Riddle here tried to confess his part but Hagrid beat him to it. You got your best friend expelled and reduced to a lowly groundskeeper," he said to Riddle, grinning insanely.

"We'll tell everyone that you put Professor Riddle under the Imperious Curse," Cedric stated, looking from Crouch to his teacher and back again. "That you made him put Harry's name in the Goblet and set that kelpie on Fleur."

"Who's going to believe you? Any of you?" Crouch laughed. Putting on a calm and collected demeanor, he said, "After all, Professor Tom Riddle has a habit of violence and underhanded deeds. Whereas I am a respected member of the wizarding world. Good luck in Azkaban Prison!" He added to Riddle. "Because that's where you'll end up after they find you with the dead bodies of all four champions and your own wand having done the deed." Turning his wand towards Fleur, he fired a Killing Curse at her, but before the curse hit its target, Krum dove in front of her, taking the curse square in the chest and falling to the ground, dead.

"NO!" Fleur screamed, dropping to her knees next to Krum.

"That's enough, Crouch!"

From all around, a dozen witches and wizards appeared, each pointing wands at Barty Crouch, Jr..

Dumbledore swept forward, disarming the crazed wizard before binding and gagging him.

"Professor!" Harry said, relieved and surprised. "How did you find us here?"

Although the headmaster's facial expression was cold fury, there was the barest hint of a twinkle in his blue eyes as he reached into a pocket of his robes and withdrew something he handed to Riddle.

"Merope!" Riddle exclaimed, beaming at the sight of his beloved animal companion. Taking the snake in his hands, he smiled and stroked her back, lovingly. "Where have you been? I've been trying to find you for ages!"

The garter snake coiled in her master's hands, hissing with affection. "I wasssss out hunting. I got losssssst. When the cup brought them here, I esssssscaped and went for help."

"You went back to the cup, got transported back to Hogwarts, and found help," Cedric said, shaking his head in amazement. "Good snake. Very, _very_ good snake."

While watching as Moody and Dumbledore levitated Viktor Krum's body onto a stretcher, Harry was distracted when his parents rushed over, hugging him tightly and jarring his injured ribs. "Oww!" Harry cried out, breathing sharply.

"Wh-? Wait, you…? You felt that?" James said, looking from his wife to his son.

"I felt you trying to break _another_ rib," Harry corrected, nursing his side. Giving his mother and father a smile, he added, "But yes."

"Oh, sweetheart!" Lily exclaimed, going in for another hug but she was held back by James.

"Let's get Harry fixed up before we start celebrating," James advised.

But as Krum's body was taken away, Harry had to admit he didn't really feel much like celebrating right at that moment.

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, Cedric, Fleur, and Harry were quickly escorted to the hospital wing and examined thoroughly by Madame Pomfrey who quickly took care of Harry's broken ribs and the bruises on his back. Although Harry wanted to know what was going to happen to Barty Crouch, Jr. and Tom Riddle, Pomfrey insisted that that could all wait until the morning after everyone had gotten a good night's sleep.

After taking a dose of Dreamless Sleep potion, Harry let his mother help him take the back brace off before lying back in bed and closing his eyes.

Once she was sure that Harry was asleep, Lily left the hospital wing and headed for the Great Hall where the Potters and Weasleys were waiting to hear news.

"Is Harry okay?" Camille asked, nervously. No doubt she was thinking of when her brother was hurt by the dragon.

"Harry's resting, sweetheart," Lily assured her younger daughter. "He'll be just fine." Her eyes sparkling with happy tears, she added, "When he landed on his back in that graveyard, it jarred his spine and… Anyway, Madame Pomfrey said Harry has full sensation and motor function in his upper body."

"Mum, that's amazing!" Dominic exclaimed, excitedly. After a moment, though, he frowned slightly as he asked, "But you just said his _upper_ body."

James nodded, trying to focus on the good news. "Harry's still paralyzed from the waist down," he explained. "But now he'll be able to sit up on his own and he'll have an easier time getting in and out of the wheelchair."

'**Can we see him?'** Isabelle asked.

Lily shook her head and held up a hand to halt the numerous protests from both families. "Harry and Cedric are both sleeping. They've been through a lot tonight, so let's let them rest for now."

Ron took Isabelle's hand in his and gave it a friendly squeeze. **'That will give us time to plan a big party for Harry, Cedric, **_**and**_** Fleur, alright?'**

Molly frowned, disapprovingly, at that idea and she looked from her son to Lily. "I would think that a party would be in poor taste, wouldn't it? Especially since Victor Krum died."

James looked thoughtful as he replied to Molly's concerns. "I think that celebrating the victory and remembering Krum's courage and sacrifice would be a good send-off."

Standing up from his spot at the Gryffindor table, Nick looked at the others and said, "Mum, I really need to see Harry and Cedric. I just… I have to know they're okay. Please?"

Lily started to protest but seeing the anxious look on her son's face, she nodded, looking at Camille as well. "Take your sister with you. But don't bother them, alright?"

"We won't, Mum," Camille promised as she took her big brother's hand and the pair headed upstairs.

xxxxxx

Cedric's parents—Amos and Penelope—were sitting by their son's bedside when Camille and Nick entered the room and headed for Harry's bed.

After whispering something to her husband, Penelope went over to Nick and pulled the young man into a hug. "How are you doing, dear?" she asked as she pulled away. Looking from her own son to Harry, she added, "This must be a horrible ordeal for you as well."

"I'm just glad they're both back and safe," Nick replied, watching his little sister sit on Harry's bed by his feet before looking over at Cedric. "I-I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost either of them… or both," he said, grimly.

"Amos and I are utterly flabbergasted about Barty Crouch, Jr.," Penelope whispered, not wanting to disturb the sleeping champions. "My husband and Crouch, Jr. were actually fairly friendly. They talked at work all the time. To think that the man was capable of such violence and… Well…" Smiling, she shook her head as if discarding the thought. "As you said, what matters is that Harry and Cedric are safe."

* * *

Waking up late the following afternoon, Harry found a crowd gathered around his bed in the hospital wing. His parents, along with Isabelle and Sirius, were standing nearby along with Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore.

As Harry started to sit up, Lily stepped forward to help him but he waved her off. "I'm alright, Mum," Harry insisted, relishing in the feeling of actually sitting up on his own and not needing to be propped up. Taking his glasses from Isabelle, he turned his attention to Dumbledore. "What are you doing here, sir?"

"I thought you and your family and friends might like to know what's to become of Professor Riddle," the headmaster replied, simply, his expression stoic.

"He's not sacked?" Hermione said, hopefully. She couldn't bear if one of her favorite teachers was let go. Professor Riddle never hesitated to answer any questions she had or let her peruse his personal library for information for essays.

For a moment, everyone waited with baited breath to hear the verdict. Finally, a twinkle appeared in Dumbledore's eye as he explained. "Cornelius Fudge, Alastor Moody, and I have discussed it, and we have agreed that Tom Riddle will remain a teacher here at Hogwarts. We understand that his actions were not truly his own and he never intended to harm anyone."

As everyone breathed a sigh of relief, Harry felt a slight squirm in his stomach, and he looked at Dumbledore with a resolved air. "Sir, I don't know about Cedric and Fleur… But if it's all the same to you, sir… The four of us grabbed the TriWizard Cup together. I-I'd like it if Viktor Krum's parents got his share of the winnings."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly as he spoke. "I will talk to Miss Delacour and Mr. Diggory. But if they agree, then I will see to it." Studying Harry for another moment or two, he asked, "And what of yourself, Harry? Will you be ready to come back to Hogwarts after the upcoming summer holidays?"

Harry nodded. "I'm sure I'll be spending most of the time in physical therapy getting my full upper body strength back, but I'll be back, sir."

"Good man," Dumbledore replied, clapping a hand on the young man's shoulder. "And I expect to see you on the quidditch pitch next season."

Again, Harry promised and when the headmaster headed over to speak with Fleur and Cedric, he turned to his friends and family. "What happened to Mr. Crouch's son?"

James' expression was rather grave as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Early this morning, Barty Crouch, Jr. was hauled off to Azkaban. There was talk of his receiving the dementor's kiss."

"What he did to Professor Riddle… It's the least he deserves," Ron said, darkly.

"No one deserves to get their soul sucked out of their body, Ron," Sirius chastised.

Hermione gave Ron a jab to the ribs with her elbow before covering for her friend's comment. "Ron's just in a mood because he caught Neville snogging with his sister this morning after breakfast."

Although Harry wanted to hear all about it, his back was starting to ache from sitting up on his own and he eyed the back brace sitting on the chair near the bed. When his mother caught his look, she quickly helped him get the brace on over his shirt. "Better, sweetheart?"

Harry nodded as Lily added a few pillows behind him. Leaning back a bit, he gave her a smile. "Thanks, Mum."

"Rest up while you can," Lily advised. "Because you were right. Once your summer holiday starts, you've got a lot of work ahead of you."

But rather than being discouraged, Harry slowly sat up again. "I'm looking forward to it. It'll feel good getting back to normal."

James and Lily exchanged a look with the others before James asked, "Could you all give us a moment with Harry?"

"Why don't we go see how the twins are doing with that victory party?" Sirius suggested, shooing everyone away before drawing the curtains around Harry's bed.

Once alone, James was direct as he spoke. "Madame Pomfrey did a magical scan of your spine. And while the nerves in your upper back are functioning just fine now, there's no change in the injuries to your lower back."

Harry nodded that he understood and tried to not seem bothered by the news. "Well, we knew that my being able to walk again wasn't going to happen in the first place, right? What'd the doctors say—less than 5 percent chance?"

"2 percent," Lily corrected, trying to keep a choke out of her voice. When Harry had told her last night that he could feel his injured ribs she'd let herself get her hopes up that Harry might walk again. But when Madame Pomfrey had checked this morning while Harry was still asleep, those hopes had been dashed.

Harry could tell be the look on his mother's face that she was crushed by the news and quickly buried his own disappointment as he spoke. "Well, I'm still loads better than when I first ended up in hospital, yeah? I'm breathing on my own, I've got full sensation and muscle control in my upper body again…" Frowning sadly as he thought of Krum, he added. "I'm alive, Mum. Yeah, I'll still be in a wheelchair. But I'm alive."

Lily sat on Harry's other side and wrapped him in the biggest hug she could give.

* * *

The following day—before the Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students were set to depart—Dumbledore hosted a memorial in the Great Hall, praising Viktor Krum's sacrifice along with his bravery and chivalry.

When the headmaster had finished, Harry, Cedric, and Fleur came forward, talking about Krum's fairness and resourcefulness as a competitor. They also presented Krum's family with the full amount of the TriWizard winnings and the cup which was no longer a portkey.

"None of us really need the money," Cedric insisted when Krum's mother refused the offerings. "And what good is an empty cup, anyway?"

"If it weren't for your son," Harry added, solemnly. "—we likely wouldn't have made it back alive."

After the memorial, Cedric and Harry said good-bye to Fleur who made them promise to stay in touch. Once the Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students had all left, the two Hogwarts champions took their time going up to the Room of Requirement where their victory party was to be held.

"So," Cedric asked as they stopped by one of the alcoves on the 3rd floor. "-are you keeping the fancy wheels?" When Harry raised an eyebrow, Cedric pointed to the motorized wheelchair. "Nick said you were thinking of something a little simpler now that it's just your lower body that's paralyzed."

"I'm sure there's someone else who could use something like this," Harry replied, nodding. "I told Nick I wanted to donate this chair to someone who really deserves it. You know, someone who can't afford it otherwise?"

Cedric stared at Harry for a moment and gave him a smile. "You're a good person, Harry. I know part of that is your family but a big part of that is you. I really admire you, Harry."

Unsure of what to say in return, Harry just thanked him before the two continued on their way.

Reaching the Room of Requirement, when Cedric opened the door, he gaped at the sight of Nick standing in the middle of the room in his best set of robes. "I didn't realize this was a formal affair," Cedric said, confused as he stepped inside.

To the room at large, Nick shushed everyone before gesturing to his boyfriend. "Cedric Diggory is a young man who is stubborn, disgustingly selfless, far too athletic, and way more handsome than he should be. He snores like a bear, his handwriting is abysmal, and rumor has it that he likes pineapple on pizza. Not to mention, that he is also one of _four_ TriWizard Champions. And _none_ of that…" he turned to Cedric and gave him a huge grin. "—means _One. Damn. Thing_ to me. Cedric, I love you. I love everything you are, everything you make me feel… and I would also love—" Dropping down to one knee, Nick pulled out a small box and opened it, revealing ring that was braided onyx and yellow gold with a bright red ruby in the center. "—if you would marry me."

If Harry hadn't already been in the wheelchair, he was fairly certain he would have needed to sit down after watching the proposal. Looking up at Cedric, Nick looked equal parts elated and terrified, wondering what the love of his life would say.

After a moment, Cedric practically tackled Nick, wrapping his arms around his next and kissing him. "Yes!" Cedric exclaimed when the couple finally came up for air. "Yes, of course!"

When Nick slid the ring on Cedric's hand, Colin Creevey swiftly snapped pictures while the girls in the room 'ooh'ed and 'ahh'ed over the ring.

Sidling up to Harry, Hermione beamed at her own boyfriend. "Nick wanted to wait, but Sirius convinced him to propose today."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Krum's death was awful. I still can't believe it happened. I mean, I saw it, but…" Looking at his brother, he gave a smile. "As awful as all that was… _this_ is what we need to focus on. There's still life to live, you know? And who knows?" he added, taking his girlfriend's hand and pulling her towards him before leaning forward and kissing her. "Maybe someday, I'll be asking you to marry me."

* * *

_Caulfield Hospital_

Between everything that had happened with the third task, its aftermath, and the various victory parties which lasted over two full days, Harry was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted when he returned to his hospital room.

Although James offered to help him into bed, Harry insisted on doing it himself, stating that he needed to work on rebuilding his upper body strength.

Once he was sitting on the bed and had redressed in pajamas, Lily moved her son's legs under the blankets and helped him take off the back brace before tucking him in, placing his glasses on the bedside table.

"Go home and get some sleep," James whispered to Lily who was putting Harry's clothes in a pile on the chair by the bed. "I'll stay with Harry tonight."

Lily let out a soft chuckle as she shook her head. Sitting down on the daybed, she smiled, sleepily. "I'd love to, dear, but I'm too tired."

James smiled in return and went over to his wife, getting her settled comfortably before pulling a blanket over her. Within moments, Lily was sound asleep. Kissing her forehead, James whispered, "I love you, Lily." Going to the armchair in the corner, he sat down, watching his son and wife sleeping.

It was strange, thinking on everything that had happened this past school year. Never in his entire life had James ever expected to be dealing with his youngest son being paralyzed. It was a miracle Harry hadn't been killed that day. Just moments ago, James had been staring at the scars on his son's body—the puncture wounds across his stomach and the surgical scars on his front and upper back. If the dragon's tail had hit Harry in the chest, it could have killed him instantly.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the 'what if's, James tried to focus on the positives. Harry was now only paralyzed from the waist down, he was breathing on his own, and with a regular physical therapy regimen, he'd be able to have a more normal life than what he'd been looking at only a week ago.

Hearing Harry moving about in his sleep, James couldn't wait until his son was finally out of the hospital. According to Madame Pomfrey, she wasn't completely certain if the crash in the graveyard had simply jarred the spinal nerves into reconnecting—much like smacking a TV with fuzzy reception—or if it had been some other strange fluke. Or even if it had just been Harry's spinal nerves finally fixing themselves at just the right moment.

Harry wouldn't be leaving right away, of that James was certain. Healer Shelton and Dr. Warren would no doubt want to make sure that Harry wasn't going to suffer any setbacks. But hopefully, Harry would be able to celebrate his birthday at home and in considerably better shape than after the first task.

x

It was nearing 4 in the morning when Harry woke to the sound of someone throwing up in the bathroom. Sitting up after donning his glasses, he saw that his father was now asleep in the armchair in the corner and the daybed where his mother had been sleeping was empty.

Waiting until the bathroom light went out and the sounds of running water had subsided, Harry quietly called out. "Mum? Are you alright?"

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," Lily replied, wiping her mouth as she exited the bathroom and crept over to Harry's bed, sitting on the edge. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Harry repeated his question and when his mother didn't answer, sat up more, adjusting the bed as he did so. "Mum, you're not sick or something, are you? I mean… _really _sick?"

Lily chuckled softly, patting Harry's arm soothingly. "No, it—it's nothing like that. I'm…"

"You're kidding," Harry said, catching on quickly. "You're having another kid?"

"Healer Shelton told me just before the Final Task," Lily explained. "I'm about two and a half months along."

Harry looked over at James who snuffled in his sleep before turning back to his mother. "Have you told Dad yet?"

Lily looked concerned as she also glanced over to her husband. "Harry, I don't know if this is the best time for me to be pregnant right now," she admitted. "I haven't spoken to your father about it, but…"

Harry felt an uncomfortable prickle down the back of his neck as he understood what his mother was debating. "Mum, if you're worried about how Dad will react—he'll be thrilled. Trust me."

"I know he would be," Lily agreed, nodding. Brushing her son's bangs out of his eyes, she said, "But what about you?"

"Mum, I'm alright," Harry insisted. Looking at his lower body and the wheelchair next to the bed, he shrugged and amended the statement. "Okay, I'm not _completely_ alright. But neither was Isabelle when you had Camille."

There was that, Lily thought to herself. And she had to admit that most of her fear about the pregnancy was that Harry might feel like he was being shoved aside while everyone else helped take care of her and eventually the new baby.

But there were also the risks that came with having a child at nearly 40 years old. There was a higher risk of birth defects and while Isabelle's disability wasn't too much of an impact on the family, Harry's was certainly more so. What if there ended up being something wrong with the child and he or she needed constant care and hospitalization?

"Lily?"

Hearing James' voice, Lily turned, her eyes getting glassy with tears as she stood up and faced her husband. "James. I-I thought you were asleep."

"I think you two need to talk," Harry said, looking from his mum to his dad.

"I think you should sit down," Lily said as she sat back down on the daybed.

Looking confused and concerned, James did likewise, holding his wife's hands as she told him about her condition.

* * *

In Harry's primary school, one of the classes he'd had was physical education and during one memorable day, the teacher, Darius Hanlin, had instructed each student to do 50 sit-ups in a row. After most of the students—Harry included—had given up after 35, Mr. Hanlin called a halt to things and shared with them a story his wife had told him about being a physical therapist.

A young girl had been in a car crash and had ended up paralyzed from the waist down. And even though she worked tirelessly on arm strengthening and most upper body exercises, it was her dedication to sit-ups that helped her mobility the most.

It was this mindset that Harry adopted over the following weeks as he prepared to be discharged from the hospital.

The doctors and healers taking care of him had stated that he could go home on the 24th of July, one week before his birthday.

This date was contingent, however, on Harry's ability to do a series of activities on his own, including getting in and out of bed, in and out of the bathtub or shower, a car or other vehicle, and getting into the wheelchair from the floor.

After finishing another full day of sit-ups, push-ups, transfer exercises, stretches, and three rope climbs, Harry felt tired but encouraged by his progress. Sitting on the edge of the stack of mats he'd been working out on, he moved over to the manual wheelchair he'd started using.

Dr. Warren had been surprised that Harry wanted to give up the motorized wheelchair but Harry explained that he didn't feel he needed something so extravagant now that he was getting his upper body strength back.

After a quick 'see you tomorrow' to Carla, Harry headed for the elevators and headed back towards his room, thinking about a few weeks ago when James and Lily had called a family meeting regarding Lily's pregnancy. The Potter siblings all agreed that it was wonderful news and Camille especially was looking forward to being a big sister.

Even when Lily confessed her fears about possible complications, everyone promised to help out no matter the outcome. James even agreed that once Lily was two thirds into the pregnancy, she should try and be on bed rest as much as possible.

The previous week, Hermione had given Harry some research on potential birth defects and while Harry hoped it wouldn't be an issue, he'd still read and reread everything half a dozen times.

Thinking of his own condition, Harry couldn't stop his mind from wandering. What if his new brother or sister was born with some sort of physical disability? It would certainly be harder on the rest of the family, but Harry could imagine helping his newest sibling deal with whatever they had to deal with.

"Harry," Nick said, hurrying towards his brother.

Harry stopped, noticing with concern that his oldest brother looked deeply worried about something. "What is it? Is Mum okay?"

Nick shook his head and led Harry back the opposite direction. "Mum's been admitted. The doctors found… Th-there's issues with the babies."

"Wait, 'babies'?" Harry repeated, stopping his brother. "Mum's having twins?"

Nick nodded in reply. After a moment, he let out a sigh and explained. "One of the babies has a limb deformity. The other is okay for now, but the doctors and healers are monitoring both babies closely."

In their mother's hospital room, Harry and Nick found their father and godfather talking with Dr. Clarkston—Lily's ob/gyn—and Healer Shelton.

"Once the babies are born, we'll have a better idea of the severity of the deformities," Dr. Clarkston explained.

"Harry. Nick," Lily said, looking over at the doorway. Turning her attention to the doctor, she gestured to the two teenagers. "Dr. Clarkston, my sons—Nick and Harry."

After shaking the doctor's hand, Harry looked over at his mother, a squirming sensation in his stomach starting up as he saw her lying in the hospital bed. Was this how she'd felt all these months?

"So on the plus side," Healer Shelton explained to the two teenagers. "You're going to have two new baby sisters."

"Camille and Isabelle are going to love that," Nick whispered to Harry who quickly agreed.

"But as I expect Nick told you," James went on, his expression somber. "—there are some serious complications we'll have to deal with."

"Nick said something about one of the babies having some sort of limb deformity," Harry replied, nodding.

"One of the girls has a congenital defect called Hildegrand Syndrome," Dr. Clarkston explained. (A/N: Don't bother looking up the defect. I made it up.) "It causes the bones of the legs to develop abnormally and in some cases can cause fusion of the knee and ankle joints."

"The defects weren't noticeable with the normal muggle ultrasounds but Healer Shelton caught it when she ran magical tests for any problems with the babies," Lily added, putting a hand on the barely noticeable baby bump. "But we won't know how bad it all is until they're born." When James sat down on the bed next to her, she took his hand, trying not to start crying in front of her children.

"What about the other baby?" Harry asked, warily. "Is she okay, or…?"

Healer Shelton shrugged at the question. "Right now the other baby seems to be developing normally. But we'll be monitoring Lily's condition very carefully."

"Once we go home," James advised his sons. "—your mum is going to have to take it easy. We talked to the local hospital—Waldenmeyer Medical Center—and they'll take over once you're finally out of here, Harry."

But Harry wanted to know more about his future sister's condition and asked about what would happen once she was born.

"It all depends on the severity of the deformities," Dr. Clarkston replied. "Congenital defects like this are often resistant to healing with magic. In all likelihood, your sister will require surgery to repair the defects… possibly multiple surgeries depending on how she heals and develops. If the deformities are beyond repair, it may be necessary to amputate the limbs."

"If the legs aren't in bad shape," Healer Shelton went on. "We should be able to correct the malformation by keeping the limbs in casts for several months followed by long-term braces."

It was a lot to take in, Harry thought as his brother and parents continued to discuss things with the doctor and healer. Now that he knew that one of his sisters would have a disability at birth, he felt like he'd have to make certain that he was as self-sufficient as possible when he went home—not only so that his mother wouldn't have to worry about taking care of him, but also so that he could be an example to his little sister, showing her that a physical disability didn't take away from your potential.

x

After Sirius escorted Harry back to his own hospital room, the older wizard watched his godson as he lifted himself up onto his bed, moving his legs under the blankets after changing clothes. "Are you alright, Harry?" Sirius inquired, taking note of how quiet his godson was being.

Harry shrugged, not sure of how he felt. "Ever since I first woke up in the hospital," he began, trying to explain. "—I've been thinking of what life would be like for me when I finally got out of here. You know—being paralyzed. I was really scared at first, because the idea of only being able to move my arms, breathing through a tube in my throat… The fact that I wouldn't be able to take care of myself. Then I could breathe on my own again and I realized that even though it would be really hard work, I _could_ do things on my own."

"Now you're as mobile as you can possibly be," Sirius concluded. "You can get around in the wheelchair. You can get in and out of it easily."

Nodding, Harry thought about his unborn sisters. "But my new sister… She won't know what it's like to be normal. She'll grow up with a disability and it will just be her ordinary life. I had to get used to losing the use of my legs, being in a wheelchair. But if they have to… to remove both her legs… And even if they don't…. Casts, braces, crutches… That's going to be normal for her. I don't know how I feel about that."

Sirius sat on the edge of the bed, his tone pensive as he spoke. "I expect that—if it is a worst case scenario and your sister loses both of her legs—she will grow up thinking nothing of using prosthetics. And if she has to wear braces and use a cane or crutches, that will become commonplace to her as well. Harry, your life changed in an instant. You said it yourself—the accident caused you to go from an able-bodied teenager to a disabled young man. You had to learn how to adjust and accept what happened to you. Your sister won't know a life before her disabilities." Giving Harry's shoulder a gentle squeeze, he added, "I think your job, Harry, will be to help her learn how live with them."

* * *

The morning Harry was officially released from Caulfield Hospital, he woke early and had a quick shower before getting dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, socks, and sneakers. Once he was settled in his wheelchair, he looked about the room, checking that he hadn't left anything behind.

"Don't tell me you're going to miss this place," James said as he came into the room.

"Just making sure I'm not leaving anything behind," Harry replied, shoving his pajamas in the duffle bag on the chair in the corner.

"Sirius and I packed up everything last night while you were sleeping," James explained. When Harry continued looking around the room, he put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Feels strange to be going home, doesn't it?"

Nodding, Harry gave a dry smile. "Feels like I should be on my way back to Hogwarts. I can't believe I spent almost a whole year in this place." Looking at his legs and the wheelchair he sat in, he added, "I feel like a completely different person than when I first got here."

"You're still the same person, Harry," James reassured him as the two left the hospital room and headed towards the elevators.

In terms of personality and character, his father was correct, Harry knew. But he _was_ different, and not just physically. He felt older—more jaded, somehow. Also, life would never be as easy for him as it was a year ago. Even with continued physical therapy, he would still have some limitations to contend with.

Once in the lobby, James signed the paperwork releasing Harry just as Healer Shelton came up with a large bag. Handing the bag to Harry, he explained. "'Going away' cards and gifts from your nurses as well as information on exercises for you to do at home once you're done with physical therapy in a few weeks."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied, shaking the healer's hand. "I appreciate that."

"Also," Shelton added with a smile. "I thought you might like to know the motorized wheelchair you were using before is now being utilized by a 12-year-old boy with spina bifida. His mother is a single parent and stated that she could barely cover her son's medical bills, let alone a state-of-the-art wheelchair. She's very grateful."

Overhearing the conversation while at the front desk, James shared a quick word with one of the nurses to cover all expenses for the new owner of Harry's old wheelchair. After all, the Potter family was exceedingly wealthy and if he could help a young mother worry less about her child, that felt like a good use of the family fortune.

Outside in the parking lot, James led Harry over to where Lily's SUV was parked. Once Harry was in and his wheelchair loaded into the back along with his bags, the two headed away from the hospital and down the road, heading home at last.

* * *

Arriving at the Potter house in Godric's Hollow late afternoon, James parked in the driveway and brought Harry's wheelchair around, watching as his son carefully got out of the vehicle and got himself settled.

Heading inside, Harry couldn't believe how much he'd missed the place. The exterior design of the house was an odd mix of a grand log cabin and thatched cottage style home. And while the outside dimensions of the house stayed the same over the years, the inside was a very different story. Once Isabelle had been born, James and Lily had expanded the interior of the house using magic, adding extra rooms and bathrooms to accommodate their growing family. As a result, there were conflicting styles in the different rooms depending on everyone's taste.

Dominic's room was a mix of vaulted ceilings and white plaster walls with a bookcase concealing a hidden reading nook with a comfy armchair, a small table, and a window seat which doubled as storage.

Nick's room was a tower bedroom with a brick and stone design. The ceiling was charmed so at night, it looked like the night sky, complete with twinkling stars and the moon which grew and waned depending on the time of the month.

Isabelle had claimed a corner bedroom with multiple windows and wood floors. During the day, when it was sunny, the room was often so bright she didn't even have to turn on any lights.

Camille's bedroom was next door and had been painted to look like a woodland scene straight out of a Disney movie.

Harry, on the other hand, had opted for a 'suite' in the basement which now included a full private bathroom and sitting room.

"Welcome home, Harry!" Sirius exclaimed brightly as he bent down to give the teenager a hug. Straightening up, he looked at James. "Lily and Molly Weasley are working on a massive—and I do want to emphasize 'MASSIVE'—party for Harry next week to celebrate his homecoming _and_ birthday."

"I don't need a big party, really," Harry insisted as his stomach gave a rumble of hunger. "I mean, just you lot, and my friends—"

"Your mum has already made plans and Molly has invitations out and is planning on doing _all_ the cooking," Sirius explained. "So your parents likely won't have to do any food shopping for another week _after_ your party."

Heading towards the kitchen, Harry raised both eyebrows when he saw a pan of freshly baked cinnamon rolls on the counter. "Are we saving these for something or can I have some now? I'm starving."

"Brunch will be up in a matter of moments," Sirius promised as he quickly went to work cooking eggs and sausage while James prepared tea, fresh squeezed orange juice, and fried potatoes.

The smells of food soon drew in the rest of the Potter family, including Remus Lupin and Cedric Diggory.

Once everyone had settled down to eat, Lily looked over to James. "James, could you-?"

But James already had his wand out and was using magic to drop four frozen waffles in the toaster on the counter. "Sirius, did you…?"

"Fried chicken is staying warm in the oven, Prongs," Sirius assured him. Looking over at Lily, he beamed. "We've been through this five times, Lily. No worries."

"Fried chicken and waffles?" Cedric asked, looking confused.

"I have no idea how that got started," Nick replied, shaking his head, licking cinnamon roll frosting off of his fingers. "But according to Dad, Sirius, and Remus, every time Mum's pregnant, she gets cravings for fried chicken and waffles the first two trimesters, and the last trimester is hot dogs, Chinese food, and Jello."

'**Strawberry Jello,'** Isabelle clarified. **'Made with pomegranate juice.'**

Changing the subject from his mother's pregnancy cravings, Harry looked at Nick and Cedric and asked, "So when are the two of you tying the knot?"

Nick and Cedric looked at one another and after a moment or two, Cedric shrugged, uncertainly. "We're not entirely sure yet. Right now, we've been looking for a place to move in together."

Taking his fiancé's hand, Nick gave Cedric a smile and a kiss and added, "But even if it takes a while, we will get married."

"I can't wait," Cedric replied, giving Nick a kiss in return.

"I really am happy for the two of you," Harry assured them as he ate. "I hope you can get married soon." Turning his attention to his parents, he asked, "So now that you know that the twins are going to be girls, any thoughts on names?"

Lily and James exchanged a look before replying. "We definitely want to name one of the girls 'Danielle'," James explained. "The other name we're thinking of… we wanted to ask you if it was okay."

Harry frowned in confusion. "I don't follow."

"We wanted to name one of your sisters… 'Victoria'," Lily said. "After Viktor Krum."

A smile slowly grew on Harry's face and he nodded in approval. "I think that would be wonderful."

x

After breakfast, Harry insisted on going for a broom ride around the backyard and once James and Sirius finished eating, they joined him in racing around the property.

Landing by the back porch after 10 laps and several loops, Harry was breathless and giddy as his father helped him back into the wheelchair. "Dad, can I just stay on my broom full time?" Harry wanted to know as they went back into the house after stashing the brooms in the shed nearby.

Sirius stopped suddenly, grabbing James' arm and giving his best friend an excited—yet crazed—look. "Prongs, we could talk to Arthur when the Weasleys get here—"

"Padfoot," James warned, knowing exactly where the line of thought was going.

"He did it with that Ford Anglia—" Sirius pressed on, not about to be discouraged from his idea.

"Are you off your rocker?" James inquired, not sure if Sirius was putting him on or dead serious.

"—a wheelchair wouldn't be nearly as difficult."

"I don't believe this," James muttered, rolling his eyes, "You're actually thinking about doing this, aren't you?"

Sirius beamed as he continued. "A flying wheelchair, Prongs. I'm telling you—we could put a load of safety features—"

"Lily!" James hollered for his wife as he went to sit down at the kitchen table, putting his head in his hands and groaning in exasperation.

"What's wrong?" Lily asked from where she was still seated at the table sipping a cup of herbal tea.

"Sirius is off his meds again," James replied, looking from his wife to his best friend and back again. "Wait till you hear _this_ one." Gesturing to Sirius, he nodded. "Go on—tell her your genius idea."

It only took the words 'flying wheelchair' before Lily stood up, shaking her head. "No. _NO!_ Absolutely _NOT_! I… James, I am supposed to be _avoiding_ stress! Why are you making me listen to Sirius's cockamamie plans which are _increasing_ my stress?"

Sitting down in Lily's seat as she walked towards the master bedroom, slamming the door behind her, Sirius looked over at James with disappointment. "So I guess that's a 'no', then, eh?"


	5. Chapter 5

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This chapter is a little short compared to most of the others in this story, but _next_ chapter will—again—be a series of vignettes revolving around some elements set up during _this _chapter. So… think of this chapter as an appetizer to give you a taste of the next one.

Chapter 5

* * *

A part of Harry had been vehemently hoping that the size of his party was being exaggerated but when he was startled awake on the morning of his birthday by the sounds of shouts and fireworks going off, Harry knew that Sirius had been correct.

After getting up and having a quick shower, Harry went up to the kitchen where Remus was making breakfast.

"I've been told to keep things light this morning," Remus explained as he set a plate of toast, eggs, and fruit salad in front of Harry. "—since there's a veritable feast being prepared for your party later this afternoon."

"I really didn't need all of this," Harry reiterated, gesturing to the noise and fuss going on outside.

Remus gave Harry a warm smile and nodded. "I know, Harry. But this isn't just to celebrate your birthday, remember. You've been through a lot in the past year and you've come out of it far better than we thought you would. I think everyone just wants to make this as cheerful an occasion as possible."

"I suppose I can't really argue with that," Harry agreed, looking at the wheelchair he sat in. Taking a sip of orange juice, he gave a start when he heard more fireworks going on behind him.

Remus saw that Harry seemed rattled by something but just as he was about to inquire about it, another firework went off and Harry's hand tensed around his glass of juice so much that the glass broke. "Harry!"

Harry looked down at his bleeding hand, trying to shake off the feeling of… whatever it was. "I-I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

Remus grabbed up his wand and quickly removed the glass fragments before healing the cuts. "It's alright, Harry. Can you move your fingers?"

Harry moved his hand once all the cuts were closed up and he nodded. "I-I'm okay. I just—" But just as he spoke, there was a loud roar outside and Harry's eyes widened in fear as his heart started racing.

"Harry!" Remus exclaimed, dropping to his knees next to the teenager. "Harry, what's wrong? Talk to me!"

But Harry couldn't hear Remus's voice or feel the other man's hand on his shoulder.

He wasn't even aware of passing out and falling out of his wheelchair and onto the floor.

All Harry could think of was the First Task… and the dragon.

* * *

_The First Task_

_For a brief moment, all Harry could hear was the crowds of people shouting his name triumphantly as he swooped upwards on his Firebolt broomstick, the golden egg tucked under his arm._

_In those few seconds, he could just imagine the party in Gryffindor Tower as he held up his prize._

_At that instant, Harry beamed with pride as he thought of his victory._

_He didn't see the dragon's tail swinging towards him until it was too late. _

_The spikes caught him just below the stomach and Harry felt like something was shredding his insides. He suddenly found it hard to breathe and his legs became numb and limp._

_Still impaled on the spikes, Harry tried calling for help as he was thrown backwards against the rocks, but all he could hear was the sounds of the dragon and people screaming._

_When Harry's back collided with the sharp edges of the rocks, he briefly registered a complete explosion of pain in his upper body before all sensation below his shoulders went dead._

_He was only dimly aware of falling to the ground as he slid off the dragon's spikes._

_Now the people shouting his name sounded panicked and it was getting harder and harder to stay conscious. _

"Harry! Harry, say something!"

_Before Harry completely lost consciousness, he could have sworn he felt himself being levitated onto a stretcher._

* * *

_Present Day_

"Harry? Come on, now, little brother…"

"Sweetheart, it's Mum. Can you hear me?"

"Harry, it's okay. You're safe."

Harry gave a small moan as he slowly opened his eyes, blinking in confusion as he realized that he was _not_ in the hospital as he'd expected, but rather in his bedroom at home. "What happened?" he groaned as he started to sit up, surprised when his back didn't hurt. Pulling up his shirt expecting to see bandages and blood from his healing wounds, he instead found a set of puncture scars and a surgical scar going from his abdomen to the middle of his chest. "What…?"

"Harry, you're okay," Hermione assured him, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her boyfriend's hand.

Nodding, Harry closed his eyes trying to pull himself back to the present. He was at home in his own bed. It was almost 10 months since the first task and the dr— Harry gave an unconscious shudder as he thought of the Hungarian Horntail. "I-I-I-I'm so s-sorry," he stammered, rubbing his face and neck with both hands. "I-I didn't meant to—to ruin everything."

"Harry, it's alright," Lily assured her son, sitting on the other side of the bed. As she put a hand on his shoulder, she could feel Harry still trembling slightly. "Oh, honey…" she murmured.

"I-I heard the fireworks and it just… then that roar…" Harry's breathing grew ragged as he began hyperventilating, his memories threatening to overrun him again.

"Fred and George already took them down and put them away," Hermione replied, quickly, squeezing Harry's hand. "You're safe, Harry. Trust me."

Harry slowly started to take a deep breath, nodding as he felt tears streaming down his face. Apologizing once again, Harry stammered, "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Lily's expression was heartrending as she pulled Harry into a hug, holding him close as he wrapped his arms around her, crying. "Oh, sweetheart… you're alright. You're alright," she soothed, rocking her son gently like when he'd been little and had woken from a nightmare. "Shhh… It's okay."

x

While Nick, Lily, and Hermione took care of Harry, the rest of Harry's family and friends milled about the kitchen and living room. Party preparations were put on hold and Fred and George looked devastated that their attempt to cheer Harry up had sent him into a panic attack.

When Hermione came up from Harry's basement bedroom, everyone looked at her, worriedly.

"What happened?" Sirius wanted to know as James headed downstairs to check on his son.

Hermione sat down at the kitchen table, looking grave as she accepted a glass of water from Molly Weasley. "I think Harry had a PTSD attack. Post traumatic stress disorder," she explained when Ron looked puzzled. "The fireworks must have triggered memories of being stabbed by the dragon and he had an anxiety attack and passed out."

"But he's going to be alright, yeah?" Dominic wanted to know. "This was just some one-time thing?"

Hermione shook her head. "There's no way of knowing. PTSD can kick in without warning at any time."

"Hermione, you said it yourself," Ron cut in, recognizing his best friend's guilty expression. "This thing can come on with no warning. None of us knew this could happen."

Taking a pragmatic approach, Remus studied the teenage witch and inquired, "What should we do now?"

Hermione shrugged, sipping her water. "Harry is going to need psychological help to deal with the PTSD. With time and counseling, he should be okay. As for the party… maybe tone things down a bit?"

"We took all the fireworks back to our shop," Fred reported, ignoring the glare from his mother.

"And I modified our birthday gift, just in case," George added, thinking of the Indonesian Autumn Adder they'd gotten Harry. The snake had an almost dragon-like appearance and at first, the twins had thought it would be a good second animal companion, especially after Professor Riddle had shared the charms he'd used on Merope to allow her to speak.

But after Harry's anxiety attack, Fred decided that they should exchange the adder with a more harmless looking snake.

"Harry's resting," Lily reported a few moments later as she joined the others along with James. "He'll be back up around 4."

"That's perfect," Molly assured Lily with a warm smile. "Don't worry. We'll make sure everything is calm and relaxed for Harry."

Lily gave her friend a grateful smile and quickly asked what she could do to help.

x

"I feel so mortified right now," Harry confessed as he moved from his bed to his wheelchair.

"Harry, it's not your fault," Nick assured his little brother. "There's no way you could have known."

"I've thought about the d-dragon before today, but…" Harry looked away as he ran his hand through his messy black hair. "I could practically feel the flames from the thing's breath," he went on. "I could hear it roar… feel the spikes."

Sitting on Harry's bed, Nick studied his brother for a while before he said, "Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't had any PTSD symptoms before this. I remember when you were little, anything scary—movies, Halloween costumes, whatever—they gave you nightmares for weeks or months afterwards."

Feeling tears welling up in his eyes again, Harry wiped them away furiously as he sniffed loudly. "Everyone's going to be treating me like I've gone completely off my rocker."

"They're going to be treating you," Nick countered, calmly. "—like you've been through a traumatic event which has left a serious psychological impact. You're not crazy," he insisted. "People deal with this all the time. Mum, Dad, Dominic, Isabelle, Camille… The Weasleys… everyone is going to help you through this. You are _not_ alone in this, alright?"

Harry sniffled again, trying not to start crying openly again. "Just stop. Please?"

"Stop what?" Nick inquired, not quite understanding.

"Stop being… you," Harry whispered. "You just… You don't get it and… and you don't know how this feels."

"Then talk to me," Nick replied, pulling Harry's wheelchair closer and waiting until Harry looked him in the eye. "Explain it to me, Harry. Because right now… All I know is my little brother is hurting and when I see him in pain, I want to make it stop. So help me, alright? Help me… by telling me how I can help _you_."

When Harry leaned forward, Nick pulled his brother into a tight embrace, listening as Harry sobbed into his shoulder.

x

The atmosphere as Harry's party kicked off was considerably more subdued than originally planned.

Although Harry mingled about, he said very little and as soon as he could, he went into the study, closing the door behind him. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he berated himself for acting so foolishly. It felt like there was a sign on his head announcing to the world that he was insane. Even after talking with his family and friends, he felt like they were trying to understand what he was going through even though they didn't really get it.

Hearing the door open, Harry wheeled about to see Professor Tom Riddle coming in, closing the door again behind him. "Professor Riddle," Harry said, a bit surprised. "Wh-What are you doing here?"

"Much the same as you, actually," Riddle confided, sitting down in the armchair in the corner so he was more face to face with his student. "I care very little for crowds these days. I haven't been sleeping lately. And every morning I wake up wondering if my dreams were in fact just dreams or if they're memories of things I've done while I was under the Imperious curse."

"Right now," Harry admitted. "Just _thinking_ the word 'd-dragon' is…" Harry stopped to take a few moments to calm down. "It's just a word, but…"

"Dumbledore asked me if it was alright to hire a counselor for the upcoming year," Riddle said, giving a dry smile. "For the entire student body and staff—he says—but I have a feeling he's thinking about the two of us in particular."

"Because we're the two that are off our rockers?" Harry ventured.

Riddle shook his head insistently. "You're _not_ crazy, Harry. You're as sane as I am."

Harry raised an eyebrow at his professor and countered, "No offense, sir, but you're not exactly inspiring confidence at the moment."

Smirking slightly, Riddle nodded once. "Fair point. What I meant, Harry, is that we each have our demons to contend with. And I believe that Dumbledore's suggestion of hiring a counselor is his way of helping us deal with them so we're not fighting them alone."

Unable to argue that notion, Harry leaned back in his wheelchair, thinking. "Fred and George gave me a grass snake with the same speaking charms as Merope," Harry mused, smiling at the garter snake peeking out of her master's coat pocket at the mention of her name. "I haven't named him yet, but I think I might keep him with me at Hogwarts. Teach him to recognize when I might have another anxiety attack, you know?"

"I think that's a splendid idea," Riddle replied, nodding. Standing up, he put a warm hand on Harry's shoulder. "We'll weather this storm, Harry. We _will_ get through this. Now… I understand that there is a rather impressive chocolate cake to be devoured. Is that correct?"

Harry smiled as he turned around and headed for the door to the study. "As Remus always says, "Chocolate makes everything better."."

"I always did like that boy," Riddle said as he followed his student back to the party.

* * *

The morning of September 1st, Sirius took charge of getting Isabelle, Dominic, and Harry ready to go to King's Cross Station, much to James and Lily's surprise.

"I swear," Lily threatened as she stared down Sirius. "—if you put _any_ sort of flying or levitation charms on Harry's wheelchair, you'll be the next one who can't walk. Am. I. Clear?"

"As clear as freshly washed glass," Sirius assured her while Nick helped take the trunks out to the van parked in the driveway. "Don't worry, Lily. Dumbledore has been working on putting teleportation charms on the staircases to help Harry get up and down."

Once everyone was in the van along with all their school items, Sirius got behind the wheel and drove off, leaving James and Lily alone.

"How are you doing?" James asked his wife as she went to sit down in the living room.

"Alright, I suppose," Lily muttered, putting her feet up. "Looking forward to the peace and quiet."

"Amen to that," James agreed, conjuring a tea tray for the two of them. "We've got enough to worry about this year."

Lily put a hand to her baby bump and nodded. "Speaking of which, I want to talk to you about what we're going to do when the girls are born."

Setting his tea aside, James gave Lily an inquisitive look. "Regarding our daughter's disability?" he presumed.

Lily nodded again. "I know we've got a long time before I give birth, but I want us to figure things out now, and not in the spur of the moment."

"Fair enough," James replied.

Thinking on what had been going through her mind the past few weeks, Lily said, "If our daughter's leg deformities are serious, I don't want to put her through countless surgeries. If it comes down to it, we should consider amputation."

James sat up, looking baffled by his wife's decision. "So instead of fixing her legs, just chop them off? That's a little drastic, don't you think?"

"Is it?" Lily countered. "She could be in and out of hospitals, having who knows how many operations, and spending her nearly whole life with one or both of her legs in casts and braces. Wouldn't it just be easier for her to learn how to walk with prosthetics from the start?"

"I don't know," James replied, objectively. "I think we should consider reparative surgery first and foremost. If it comes down to it," he went on. "—I will agree with removing the limbs but _only_ if it seems to be in our daughter's best interest."

"Of course," Lily agreed. "Now… About Harry returning to the Gryffindor quidditch team…"

* * *

Once through the barrier onto Platform 9 ¾, Harry was caught off guard by the number of students greeting him and wishing him well in the upcoming year.

Making his way through the crowd and towards the ramp set up near the end of the passenger cars, Harry stopped when he saw Ron and Hermione ahead of him.

"You're looking well, mate," Ron observed. "You ready for this year?"

Harry nodded and wheeled up the ramp and onto the train which was somehow wider than he remembered.

Finding one of the compartments empty, Harry thought it a tight squeeze at first, but the second he entered, the room grew to nearly three times the original size.

Once everyone was settled, Isabelle closed the door and studied her brother. **'So, how does it feel to be going back?'**

"Good," Harry replied, honestly. Glancing at his wheelchair, he shrugged. "Definitely different… but good."

"As Bill told me once when I was young," Ron mused, "'There's going to be a lot of changes in your life. But it's not the changes themselves that matter—it's how you react to them. _That's_ what makes you who you are.'"

"Well, I'll be hoping for a quiet, uneventful year," Hermione stated, giving Harry a kiss on the cheek before taking his hand in hers. "There was far too much stress last year."

"According to Professor Riddle," Harry piped up. "—Professor Dumbledore is hiring a counselor this year for any students who want to talk about… whatever."

'**I think that's a great idea,'** Isabelle replied right away. **'I know Professor Riddle has always encouraged us to come to him with any problems, but he's just one man. And there are some problems he can't really help with, you know?'**

"Like what?" Ron wanted to know, giving her a puzzled look.

Isabelle didn't respond for a moment, but finally, she signed, **'Like the fact that I actually hate signing sometimes.'** After trying to think of the best way to sign what she meant, she eventually gave up and pulled out one of her notebooks, taking nearly five minutes writing out a more detailed response.

'_Sign language truncates sentences and while that's fine with most casual conversation, when I'm trying to explain how I feel about something… just saying I'm scared or angry just isn't enough. I want to scream or whoop with joy. I want to cry out loud or laugh. I miss laughing! I miss making some sort of _sound_ to really express how I feel! _

'_And none of you understand how left out I feel all the time. You lot are always talking about things and I start to feel invisible because I _can't_ speak aloud. I know none of you mean to, but it's like I'm being pushed aside. In classes it's the same thing! I'm a great student but all the professors see are my homework and exam grades. When Professor McGonagall asks a question in class, I want to raise my hand but I don't because no one knows sign language. And I'm almost always done first in Potions, but Snape takes forever to check my progress._

_I know that none of you really see my inability to speak as a handicap, but it _is_! It's awful and it makes me feel like a freak because I can't do something that everyone in school takes for granted!'_

By the time Isabelle handed the notebook to her brothers, she was sobbing silently. While Hermione comforted her, Ron leaned over Harry's shoulder and read the words out loud.

"Isabelle…" Harry breathed, staring at his little sister. "Why didn't you ever tell us this? Not just me or Nick or Dominic… Mum and Dad or Sirius?" When his sister signed her response, Harry's eyes grew wide in dismayed shock. Looking at Ron and Hermione, he asked, "Could you give us a few minutes?"

Ron nodded, pulling Hermione out of the compartment with him, making some comment about checking in on Fred, George, and Ginny.

"Isabelle Savannah Potter, how could you _ever _feel like you're not important?" Dominic exclaimed. "You're the smartest person in the whole family! Maybe we don't talk about it all the time, but that doesn't make it any less true! During summer holiday, Mum and Dad go on and on about your grades and how proud they are of you!"

"And I know for a fact that Hermione—a sponge of knowledge if ever there was one—is jealous of how easily you do magic without being able to speak," Harry added. "Apparently, some full-grown wizards have problems with that."

"And you're right," Dominic agreed. "None of us understand what it's like to go our whole lives not being able to speak. But that doesn't make you a freak."

Isabelle sniffed, wiping tears away as she signed. **'I just want to be normal.'**

Harry gave a dry laugh and when Isabelle gave him a look, he shrugged. "None of us are _really_ normal. Even if you could speak, you're still a witch. That's not traditionally 'normal', is it?"

"And Dad's an animagus," Dominic threw in. "Not every witch or wizard can do that, right?"

"And speaking of things that other people take for granted," Harry added, gesturing to the wheelchair. "And before you say anything—I do understand that it's not the same. You've been aphasic all your life. I've only been paralyzed for 10 months."

'**I get what you're trying to say,'** Isabelle signed, giving her brothers a small smile. **'No pun intended.'** After taking a deep breath, she wiped her eyes again and hugged Harry and Dominic. Pulling away, she added, **'I love you.'**

'**We love you, too,'** the Potter brothers signed in unison.

* * *

As the students got off the Hogwarts Express at Hogsmeade Station, Harry rolled his eyes when he heard Draco Malfoy shouting at him. "And here I was hoping you wouldn't be showing your face here this year, Potter," Malfoy sneered as he strutted over to Harry and his pack. "Isn't a little embarrassing to be taken out by a dragon?"

Hermione immediately looked at Harry who was tensing up but before she could interject, Harry's pet snake, Conrad, slithered out of the pocket of his robes and settled in the neckline space before whispering something in Harry's ear. Harry closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before snapping, "Out of my way, Malfoy."

"Not up to your usual standard, Potter!" Malfoy sneered and Ron and Hermione followed after their friend.

"Well, then what about _this_?" Dominic replied, stomping hard on Malfoy's foot before Isabelle got him in the face with a right hook, sending the Slytherin falling backwards into the waiting arms of the Weasley twins.

"Best be more careful there, Malfoy," Fred chided gently as he and his brother got Malfoy standing again.

"You keep saying things like that," George picked up, his tone light and friendly despite the look of warning in his eyes.

"—and you'll be needing a wheelchair yourself," Fred finished, giving the younger student a hearty slap on the back.

xxxxxxxxxx

Taking their seats at the Gryffindor table, Harry and company scanned the staff table to see who the new school counselor was and were surprised to see not one, but three new faces.

Once all the new students had been Sorted and seated, Dumbledore stood to give his welcoming speech. "I know you all are curious about our new staff additions, so I will get straight to the point," the headmaster began, gesturing to the trio sitting to the left side of the table. "Ms. Miranda Baxter, Mrs. Alexandra LaCroix, and Mr. Lachlan Duquesne will be joining the staff as student and faculty counselors. They will be here to help with any problems, either personal, academic, or in regards to career advice for our 6th and 7th year students. Their office locations have been posted in each House Common Room and there will also be a private mailbox outside of each office in case someone is not available at that time."

After a wave of brief murmured discussion rippled through the student body, Dumbledore carried on his speech with the usual notices before yielding the floor to Lachlan. "Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore, for the warm welcome and introduction. To all students, I would like you to know that over the course of the next month, you will be given workbooks with various questionnaires to fill out. Please fill them out honestly and leave them with your Heads of House when you are finished. These workbooks have been charmed so that the only ones who can read the responses are yourselves and I or one of my two colleagues. This is for privacy purposes so that anything written down will remain confidential. The purposes of these workbooks is to learn more about you all so that we can help you to the best of our abilities. Thank you."

As the feast began and everyone started eating, another wave of conversations started up regarding the workbooks.

"I don't know if I feel comfortable revealing a load of personal information."

"Do you think they're going to pass along our comments about our professors?"

"Is this some Ministry of Magic ploy to recruit us?"

"What if I don't have any problems? Do I still have to fill that stupid workbook out?"

"We're not getting graded on this, are we?"

"Well, _that's_ certainly unexpected," Hermione observed as she passed a platter of roasted potatoes to Harry who gave her a nod of gratitude. "I wonder if they're screening for something in particular."

'**Why do you say that?'** Isabelle inquired as she snagged the extra roll off of Harry's plate.

"Suspicions of abuse?" Hermione mused aloud. "Maybe when Mad-Eye Moody was digging into Professor Riddle's past they saw what some of the students have been living with and this is the best way for those who need help to get it."

"Maybe," Harry muttered, thinking of when he'd have to confess about his anxiety attacks and what had happened during the First Task. Glancing at his sister who was laughing at some joke of Ron's, Harry wondered if she'd tell one of the new counselors about how she felt about her aphasia. Isabelle had always had a way with the written word after all…

x

The aforementioned workbooks were passed out as the students filed out of the Great Hall after the feast and Harry noted with interest that each of the professors was given a workbook as well.

Professor Sprout took hers with mild interest while Professor McGonagall looked at the book with skepticism. Snape glared silently at Lachlan who seemed almost amused and Professor Trelawney looked as though she feared the book would bite her.

Once Harry got up to Gryffindor Tower and changed into his pajamas, he was surprised to find an envelope in his trunk from his father addressed to Fred and George Weasley. Making a mental note to pass it along at breakfast the next morning, Harry turned down his bed and lifted himself up, setting settled before grabbing his own workbook and skimming through it.

There were twenty-four questionnaires in total, divided into six separate categories: Personal, Academic, Family, Physicality, Likes, and Dislikes.

Not sure of where to start—or even if he had to go in order—Harry set the book and his glasses aside and decided to begin tackling the book the following morning.

* * *

A/N: If anyone is willing to share information—personal or otherwise—on anxiety attacks, PTSD, or aphasia(loss of voice), please feel free to drop me a message. Google can only tell me so much and I promise to leave names out of the story. Thank you.


	6. Chapter 6

AUTHOR'S NOTES: So, I misspoke in the previous chapter, calling Isabelle's condition 'aphasia'. She's mute. She cannot speak at all due to medical reasons.

Also, I am going back to my old standby of writing out story notes and thoughts before I actually write so hopefully that will help me get chapters out faster.

Chapter 6

* * *

'_Describe the last time your parents or another family member used the EXACT phrase "I love you".'_

As much as Malfoy wanted to dismiss the query—and the entire workbook—it niggled at the back of his mind like an annoying itch that refused to go away.

Even as classes began and he had homework and essays to write, the question kept popping up, demanding an answer and no matter how much he tried to tell himself "Who cares?" or "Why does it matter?", Malfoy still couldn't let the issue go.

Even when he tried to scribble an answer down, he ended up scratching it out with a huff.

The truth was… he honestly couldn't remember the last time _anyone_ in his family had said 'I love you'. He couldn't even remember hearing his parents saying 'I'm proud of you'.

X

Poking at his breakfast with his fork the following weekend, Malfoy found he had little to no interest in the ramblings of his classmates or even the discussions of quidditch try-outs.

Even trying to concentrate of his schoolwork was a challenge as he sat in the library later that afternoon, doing his best to focus on homework.

At dinner that night, Malfoy's eye wandered over to the Gryffindor table and as he watched Harry Potter and his friends, he found himself wondering what the lot of them were talking about. There seemed to be a lot of laughter coming from the group, especially when Harry's sister, Isabelle, signed something that made Hermione snort loudly enough to be heard all the way over at the Slytherin table.

Looking over at his own House Table, Malfoy noticed for the first time how serious everyone looked as they talked to one another. Even the students at the Ravenclaw table seemed to be less dour than the Slytherins.

The whole situation continued to vex him for days and late at night, three weeks after the start of term, Malfoy took the psychological assessment workbook, a few quills, and a bottle of ink and snuck out of the Slytherin dormitory, creeping into the library and sitting down at a table in a secluded corner near a window which allowed for just enough light to read by.

There was a large part of Malfoy that had wanted to be his usual cold, detached, and derisive self with the workbook. He'd initially tried, certainly, to show no emotion when answering the questions but now he felt some sort of curtain being drawn back. Suddenly, he found himself wondering about why so many of his classmates outside of Slytherin House seemed so much happier than he was. No, happier wasn't quite the right word. Satisfied with life, perhaps? But even that phrasing felt wrong.

There was a sense of camaraderie or companionship…?

'_Friendship…' _a little voice in Malfoy's head spoke up. _'That's the word you're looking for. The Potters and Weasleys… They have _friends_ and _family._ They don't just have parents or siblings they live with.'_

Staring at the workbook and the answers he'd already written, Malfoy now found it all to be a mess of rubbish. Using an erasing charm, he grabbed a quill, dipped it in ink and began to start the workbook anew, this time allowing himself to be as honest as possible as he wrote.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lachlan had expected that Slytherin House would be the most hesitant to turn in their workbooks, but he was surprised that Draco Malfoy was the first of his House to hand his in.

Although there was a distinct sense of decorum in how the teenager worded his responses, there was also a very honest yet defensive tone, almost as if Malfoy was daring someone to deem his answers incorrect. There was also a feeling of being desperate for approval and affection.

It was interesting that while Draco Malfoy kept his answers succinct when describing his flaws, dislikes, and any other negative issues, when talking about his likes, virtues, and more positive attributes, Malfoy went into minute detail and yet still displayed a sense of humility, stating that while _he_ felt these were his better qualities, he couldn't vouch for the thoughts and opinions of others.

"Fascinating reading?" Alexandra LaCroix asked as she entered the office lounge, setting down a stack of finished workbooks.

"Draco Malfoy," Lachlan replied, as he continued to peruse the teenager's book. Setting the book aside, he looked pensive as he mused aloud. "He's a very conflicted young man. He's extremely cocky, but he's also highly unsure of himself."

"And what does that tell you?" LaCroix inquired, crossing her arms and studying her colleague intently.

"It tells me," Lachlan replied, getting to his feet and picking up the workbook. "—that Mr. Draco Malfoy is first on my list of students to talk to start of October. He's on the edge and if he falls off, he's never going to come back from that. But the problem is that—as of right now—he doesn't have anything or any_one_ holding him back."

"Which tells _me_," LaCroix added, pointedly. "—that you should talk to him as soon as possible."

Lachlan nodded and smiled as he promised that he would. "I want to do some research on him first. Find out where he might have some cracks in the armor."

xxxxxx

After bearing his soul as much as he dared in the workbook, Malfoy suddenly found himself uncomfortable in his own skin. It was as if the life he'd been living no longer fit him.

Even quidditch try-outs the following weekend felt wrong and when Sophia Brachett, the new captain of the Slytherin team, benched him and selected a third year girl as seeker, Malfoy felt strangely unbothered by the whole situation.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Turning to see Lachlan Duquesne walking up to him, Malfoy tried to appear blasé as he put his broom back in the shed, closing the door with an unintentional slam. "What do you want?" Malfoy wanted to know.

"I was wondering if you'd like to talk," Lachlan offered, gently. When Malfoy didn't respond, the counselor added, "I thought, perhaps, you might need a friend."

x

In his personal office, Lachlan gestured for Malfoy to take a seat before sitting opposite him. "So tell me, Draco…" Lachlan began, his tone relaxed. "How are you feeling right now?"

Antsy…

Uncertain…

Conflicted…

Afraid…

Not that Malfoy could actually express how he felt. A Malfoy _never_ talked about emotions or feelings—or so his father had drilled into him from a very young age. But his father was far away right now. And maybe Lachlan had some suggestions for how to change…

"I feel like I'm not me…" Malfoy finally replied, wishing he knew a better way to articulate how he felt. "My memories are still my own, but… But at the same time, they feel like they belong to someone else." After a few moments, he went on. "I can't remember the last time I heard _anyone_ in my family tell me they loved me. Even here at school… no one really likes me. If I were gone, I doubt anyone would actually miss me."

There were certain words and phrases Lachlan had been taught to focus on when talking to teenagers and hearing how Draco Malfoy felt about not being missed sent up red flags. "Draco, I'd like to ask you a personal question and I need you to be completely honest," Lachlan said, imploringly. When teenager nodded, the counselor asked, simply, "Have you ever thought about hurting yourself?"

Malfoy hesitated, not sure how to explain it. When he nodded, he knew what Lachlan was thinking of and quickly continued. "B-But not like that," Malfoy insisted in a rush. After another moment to gather his thoughts, he added, "You heard about Harry Potter's accident during the first task of the TriWizard Tournament? While he was in hospital, his family did everything they could to keep him up-to-date on his school work. His friends were visiting all the time to keep his spirits up." Leaning back in his chair, he muttered, "I can't help wondering… how everyone would react if that had been me."

Standing up and pacing the room, Malfoy went on, letting the thoughts tumble out. "My mother would go on and on about it. I can just imagine her crying because I was her poor broken little boy. Father… He'd have even less to do with me than before. Certainly wouldn't do anything to help me get around." After taking a breather, he carried on. "Potter ends up paralyzed and everyone in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw are willing to help out anyway they can! If someone in _Slytherin_ was injured like that, they'd be ostracized! And honestly… I'm tired of it all."

Lachlan leaned forward, wanting to hear more. "Tired of…?"

Malfoy stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair, not caring if he was messing it up in the process. "I'm tired of being amongst a load of self-centered prats! I've got problems of my own, but no one in Slytherin gives a damn! I-I can't concentrate on schoolwork half the time, I… I-I-I end of doing sketches in the back of my notebooks or on spare parchment… I'm really, _really_ good at art. I love to draw. Animals, especially," he confessed.

A question popped up in the counselor's mind and he asked, "How do you feel about quidditch?"

"It's fun to watch," Malfoy muttered with a shrug as he sat down again and this time, Lachlan noted how the Slytherin student kept fidgeting constantly, almost unconsciously. "But honestly, I joined the team because Father was tired of hearing me go on and on about Harry Potter making the team in our first year. I never really wanted to play, but my father isn't a man who understands the word 'no'."

After a few moments to sort through his thoughts, Lachlan leaned back in his chair. "Draco, I want you to do me a favor, alright? Well, three favors, really."

Malfoy looked slightly puzzled as he heard the request, mostly at the older man's phrasing. Shrugging, he nodded. "Yeah, alright."

Lachlan smiled and leaned forward. "First, I would like you to make a list of what you'd like to do when you graduate Hogwarts. Jobs, travel… anything and everything."

"Sure," Malfoy acquiesced.

"Second," Lachlan added, allowing his curiosity to show on his face. "Would you mind putting together a portfolio of your drawings for me? I'd really like to see them."

"Yeah, of course," Malfoy agreed, eagerly. It was the first time anyone he knew had actually seemed interested in his talent and he was excited at the prospect of showing off his work. "And the third favor?"

Lachlan seemed to hesitate but after a moment, he explained. "I'm going to send a message to a muggle pharmacist friend of mine in London and see what he would require for a 30 day medication prescription to treat Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder." When the teenager seemed perplexed about the request, Lachlan went on. "The medication—when taken according to a specific schedule—could help you focus on your schoolwork and calm you down ."

The idea that there was an actual reason he couldn't focus in class intrigued Malfoy and he agreed, although he decided not to tell his parents just in case they refused.

After talking for another hour, Malfoy eventually left the office, feeling as though some sort of weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

* * *

With the students making appointments with the new counselors, Tom Riddle had been feeling a bit useless outside of class. Oh, sure, students still came to him for study assistance or one of his 24 hour library passes so that they could be in the library after dark. But as the weeks went by, Tom had yet to have anyone come see him for personal help.

Sitting in his office on a cool October evening, Tom couldn't help glancing at the bottle of bourbon sitting on a high shelf of his bookcase. He'd abstained from drinking ever since that night the previous school year, but the call of the alcohol was starting to get to him. Just one drink…

A knock at the door made the professor turn away from his vice and he strode quickly across the room, opening the door to find Dominic Potter standing there.

"Is this a bad time, Professor?" Dominic asked, noticing how surprised his teacher looked.

"No. No, of course not," Tom assured him, stepping aside to let the teenager through. "What brings you by?"

Dominic sat down on the sofa while Tom puttered about, making two cups of his special hot chocolate. As the two settled down with their beverages, Tom looked quizzically at his student. "Is everything alright, Dominic? Harry? Your mother?"

Dom was quiet for a moment before setting his mug down and explaining what was bothering him lately. "It's… It's a number of things, really. I get that these new counselors are trying to help us but they don't know what's been happening all these years. I had a sit-down with Mrs. LaCroix last week and I couldn't help feeling like I was being interrogated or something. She kept asking all these questions about what I wanted to do when I finish school and how I feel about Isabelle's muteism or Harry being paralyzed. It just felt… weird."

Tom sipped his own hot chocolate and listened as the young man spoke about Harry having two more anxiety attacks and Isabelle actually having a silent meltdown in Transfiguration.

"Professor McGonagall said that Isabelle was crying, throwing things in frustration…" Dom shook his head in disbelief. "I felt so bad for Izzy. With everything she's been through… I think she just snapped."

"I can't imagine what it's like for her, being unable to speak," Tom sympathized. "I know she's always seemed frustrated in my class. I try to call on her as much as possible, even though several of her classmates taunt her about having to write down her responses."

"Isabelle even got into it with Nick before the start of term," Dom shared, a look of concern on his face. "Nick offered to come back this year and act as an interpreter for her. She just blew up at him, saying he was treating her like she's an invalid or something." Leaning back on the sofa, he took a deep breath before setting his mug down. He hated betraying his younger sister's confidence, but there was no one he trusted more to help figure out the situation.

"Isabelle thinks she's not important," Dom went on. "She thinks she doesn't matter and that she's a handicapped freak." Leaning forward, he added, "I'm worried about her, Professor. Maybe it's just that she's getting older or girl hormones or something and that's why she's going off like this…" He didn't want to say what he was really thinking for fear that unnecessary radical action would be taken. But thinking of how he would feel if something happened because he _didn't _say something, Dom took another deep breath and confessed, "I'm afraid Isabelle might… do something… to herself."

Tom set his own mug down and fixed Dominic with a grave look. "You believe your sister may resort to self harm as a method of coping with her feelings?"

Hearing someone else say it out loud made the hair on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably, but Dominic nodded, earnestly. "Yes, sir," he replied, softly. "Y-Yes, I do."

Tom leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers lightly on the armrest as he considered how to respond to such a severe revelation.

"Izzy is going to murder me when she finds out I told you," Dominic muttered, dropping his head in remorse. "And given her talent for nonverbal spells, I'll never hear it coming. Unless she literally stabs me in the back because I metaphorically did the same to her."

"I'm going to talk to Ms. Baxter," Tom decided at last. When Dominic still looked regretful, he went on. "I will tell her that one of your sister's classmates came to me in confidence and voiced concerns. Your name will never be mentioned," he promised.

Dom looked up and nodded, gratefully. "I hate tattling about this," he pressed insistently. "But if Izzy did hurt herself, or… o-or worse… I'd never forgive myself."

"Let us hope that this is simply a case of you being a protective older brother," Tom offered with a reassuring smile. "And if your beliefs are well-founded, I will help Isabelle as best I can." Taking the two half-finished mugs of hot chocolate, he whisked them away for refreshing.

* * *

After weeks of trying to dodge the trio of counselors, Harry knew there was no escape when he received a note from Lachlan Duquesne a few days after his third anxiety attack instructing him to report to the counseling office as soon as possible.

Crumpling the note up during lunch, Harry tried to ignore the looks from his friends and siblings, but gave that endeavor up when Hermione finally said, "Harry, you've had _three_ of these episodes in a month and a half. What could it hurt to talk to Mr. Duquesne about it?"

'**So says Miss Perfect Gryffindor Prefect,'** Isabelle snapped, irritably.

"Isabelle!" Harry chastised, shooting a stern look at his sister. "That was a bit uncalled for, don't you think?"

'**What?'** Isabelle replied, her signing sharp. **'Other than being a know-it-all egghead nerd who's borderline neurotic about studying, what possible problems does Hermione have?'**

"10 points from Gryffindor and a week's worth of detention!" Hermione barked, glaring at Isabelle who shot daggers back at her. "I'll talk to Professor McGonagall about details later."

'**Whatever,'** Isabelle threw in before snatching her bag and storming out of the Great Hall.

"What was _that?_" Ron inquired as he turned to Harry and Dominic. "Your sister just went off on Hermione for no reason."

"I don't know," Harry admitted, shaking his head. "She's just gone mental lately. Dom and I haven't told Mum and Dad yet because we don't want to worry them, but it just seems to be getting worse and worse."

"I know Fred and I have done our share of crazy stunts for attention," George said, looking concerned. "—but even if that is the case—which I rather doubt, to be honest—she's going to get herself in a mess of trouble if she keeps this up."

After finishing his lunch and further discussing his sister's erratic behavior, Harry finally decided to bite the bullet and head up to the counseling offices.

Knocking on the door, Harry waited until Lachlan opened it, giving Harry a smile. "I thought I was actually going to have to come fetch you," the counselor said, cheerfully as he led Harry to his personal office. "Why don't you—?"

"—have a seat?" Harry finished, a small smirk tweaking one corner of his mouth. "I'm good, thanks."

"I am so sorry," Lachlan apologized as he sat on the small sofa nearby. "Habit, I suppose."

Harry nodded, thoughtfully, and shrugged. "Some mornings I wake up, go to get out of bed and there's a split second where I forget that I can't move my legs. Or when I try and shift positions in the middle of the night and I remember I have to move my legs myself."

"Must be a relief to be back on the Gryffindor quidditch team," Lachlan offered, casually. "You get to be back on a broom instead of sitting in a wheelchair all the time."

Harry shrugged and after a moment, he said, "It's true. But on the other hand, getting off my broom is harder because I'm paralyzed." Thinking about the man sitting in front of him, Harry asked, "I was just curious—Have _you_ ever known any witches or wizards who were paralyzed? When I was in Caulfield Hospital, the healers and doctors made it sound like someone in my condition was really rare."

"It is and it isn't," the counselor replied, sounding a bit vague. When Harry looked confused, he elaborated. "Most spinal cord injuries can be healed to a degree. Or, at the very least, the broken vertebrae can be healed and the nerves can recover somewhat. But when the nerves are _severed_, that isn't something that can be repaired easily." In response to Harry's first question, Lachlan went on. "My sister is a medical researcher at a muggle hospital. She was involved in a horseback riding accident when she was a child and was paralyzed from the neck down. She eventually regained the use of her arms, but that's about it. She's done a fair bit of studying on spinal cord injuries and muggle and magical methods of recovery."

"Sounds like my girlfriend, Hermione," Harry noted. "So why couldn't the healers fix my injuries? Was it because of the… Because of how I was paralyzed?" He could feel his heart rate increasing rapidly and he felt his snake, Conrad, slither up his shoulder, hissing calmly in his ear.

Lachlan waited until Harry calmed down before finally broaching the subject of the teenager's anxiety attacks. "Do you have any idea what's triggering these attacks?"

Again, Harry shrugged. "Sometimes it's talking about what happened with what happened during the First Task. The last one… I was in Potions class and I was wheeling past Crabbe and Goyle's station when their cauldron erupted and splashed potion onto my legs. I didn't realize until Ron said something that the liquid was eating through my pants and burning my skin. In the Hospital Wing, I was staring at my legs and the acid burns… That's the last thing I remember before waking up later that day with a headache."

"Do you think it's the reminders that you're paralyzed that are the triggers?" Lachlan mused, curiously.

"I think… I think it's me overthinking about everything," Harry replied, honestly. "If I'm talking to Ron and Hermione about where my dragon-hide gloves are for Potions class, I'm fine."

"But discussing the dragon that stabbed you in the back and sent you crashing into a pile of rocks…" Lachlan prompted, cautiously.

Harry could feel his heart rate increasing again and he gave a slight gasp as he remembered the tail spikes stabbing him, his back smashing—Taking a deep breath, Harry closed his eyes and tried to imagine being on his broom, streaking after the golden snitch. After a while and several more deep breaths, he opened his eyes. "Yeah, th-that's not something I can really talk about right now," he muttered, shakily.

Making a note about the best way to help Harry overcome his anxiety attacks, Lachlan shifted subjects to Harry's family. "You said in your booklet that your mother is pregnant with twins. How do you feel about that?"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and thought about how he felt when he'd first found out versus how he felt about it currently. "One of my sisters, Victoria, has a limb deformity," he replied, after a while. "And according to my mum's last letter, the doctors and healers say that she—my sister—is definitely going to need surgery almost right after she's born."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Lachlan sympathized. "I hope she's okay."

"Mum and Dad are talking about taking care of her and what she'll need as far as medical care…" Harry paused for a moment and finally added, "…and as awful as it sounds, there's a part of me that doesn't care if she has trouble walking. Because then I have a sister who's in the same boat as I am."

"It's not awful, Harry," Lachlan assured him. "It's human nature to want to have someone in our lives that truly understands what we're going through. Your sister will have her own challenges to face, but the two of you will have something in common."

Wondering if he should mention Isabelle's issues, Harry was silent for a while as he mentally debated with himself. After several minutes, he finally outlined what had been going on and his concerns that his younger sister was headed for trouble.

"Your brother has also said something about Isabelle," Lachlan replied, when Harry had finished talking. "He thought she might start self-harming in a desire to deal with her feelings regarding her disability."

"I'm more worried she's going to do something crazy and get herself hurt by accident," Harry went on. "Or she'll go off on someone and really hurt them. I want to tell my parents about what she's been up to but I don't want to stress Mum out while she's pregnant."

Lachlan thought about the dilemma carefully, leaning back in his seat. "Your sister has been refusing to talk to myself, Mrs. LaCroix, or Ms. Baxter. I expect that I will have to issue an official summons."

Harry nodded, knowing his sister never liked talking with shrinks when she was younger. "Good luck with that, sir."

* * *

When Hermione reported to Professor McGonagall about Isabelle's detention, she was astonished—but not exactly surprised—to hear that the young lady had also garnered detention from Professor Flitwick, along with another 10 points from Gryffindor.

"I'm worried about her, Professor," Hermione confessed. "And Dominic said that Isabelle has been blowing off classes."

"Have you discussed your concerns with Miss Potter?" McGonagall inquired, gently. "Perhaps there is something going on with her that you are unaware of."

Hermione thought for a moment about what she'd heard from Dom, and Harry. "I think she's lashing out because soon, she'll be pushed aside again while her parents take care of the new babies. One of the twins has some sort of limb deformity in her legs and she'll need constant care and medical attention. I think Isabelle is hoping someone tells her parents so they'll be more focused on her and be less concerned about the twins."

While sibling rivalry would certainly explain _part_ of Isabelle Potter's recent outbursts, McGonagall knew it wasn't the only factor. She had seen Isabelle's constant frustration in the classroom and knew that the young woman hated being unable to speak. "I will certainly speak with Miss Potter regarding this matter and hopefully, I will be able to shed some light on the causes of her current behavior."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione replied, heading out of the office and making a bee-line for Defense Against the Dark Arts, only getting to class a few minutes late.

"Ahh, Miss Granger," Tom Riddle said, cheerfully. "So good of you to join us at last. We were just wondering where you could have gotten to."

Hermione blushed as she took a seat next to Harry and elbowed him as Riddle began his class lecture. Underneath the table, she signed, **'I told Professor McGonagall about Isabelle. She said she'd talk to her.'**

Harry nodded, a touch relieved. There had been numerous times that he, Dominic, or Nick had started getting out of hand—McGonagall always lamented that they'd taken after their father as opposed to Lily—and every single time they had toned it down after getting a stern lecture from the Deputy Headmistress.

But as Hermione began taking notes on the class lecture, her mind kept wandering to Isabelle. The girl had so much potential and she had an extraordinary grasp on nonverbal spells. She had a wonderful, loving family and she had plenty of friends.

So what was causing the outbursts and attitude lately? True, Hermione remembered when she herself had started hitting puberty and the hormones and unpredictable emotions that came with that, but this seemed like more than just getting older.

Resolving to talk to Isabelle herself later that evening, Hermione tried to focus on her own classwork.

xxxxx

Isabelle didn't show up at dinner that evening and when she asked the other Gryffindor students, none of them had seen her.

"I'm sure she'll turn up," Ron insisted, piling meatloaf and potatoes onto his plate. "She's probably still irked that you actually called her out on being a prat."

Hermione nodded, distractedly, as she helped herself to chicken, potatoes, and roasted vegetables. "I suppose," she conceded, begrudgingly. "It just worries me, Ron. Isabelle has been so… out of sorts lately."

"Well, it's obvious why, isn't it?" Ron mumbled around a mouthful of food. When Hermione looked at him confused, he swallowed and explained his own theory. "Her first year, Isabelle was learning the ropes, yeah? Basic magic and potions, right? Just being a normal first year, but she still had to focus on nonverbal magic. Last year, Harry was in hospital almost the entire year."

"Your point, Ronald?" Hermione snapped, impatiently.

"She had a _distraction_ from her own problems her first two years here," Ron clarified. "She's not helping her oldest brother figure out how to talk to his boyfriend or just learning how to do magic or visiting her paralyzed brother. All she's got this year is worrying about her mum having two more kids that will take even more attention away from her."

When Hermione looked about to argue the idea, Ron cut her off. "You're an only child, Hermione. Believe me—being at the bottom rung of the sibling ladder is hard and after a while, anyone who comes after you gets top priority."

The more Hermione thought about Ron's suggestion, the more she had to admit that there was some merit to it. Still, it didn't excuse Isabelle's behavior and after dinner, Hermione started up to Gryffindor Tower for the night, stopping outside an empty classroom when she heard someone inside.

Opening the door, she stopped dead as she saw Draco Malfoy making out with—"Isabelle!"

Isabelle and Malfoy split immediately and the Slytherin student looked almost fearful as he pointed to Isabelle. "She kissed me, Granger—I swear!"

"You and I will discuss this later," Hermione promised before pointing at the doorway.

Malfoy didn't need telling twice and bolted, closing the door behind him.

"What has gotten into you lately?" Hermione asked Isabelle who just looked thoroughly pissed off.

'**What do you care? You're not my big sister or anything. You're just my brother's girlfriend.'** Isabelle signed, her gestures having a particularly sharp snap to them.

"I'd like to think I'm your friend as well," Hermione replied, calmly. "And I don't know what's been going on but I'd like to help, if I can."

For a brief moment, Isabelle considered telling the truth, but after a while, she shook her head and snapped, **'Forget it. Doesn't matter, anyway. Just leave me alone.'**

When Hermione went to intercept her, the younger Gryffindor just pushed past and stormed out the door, slamming it behind her. At a loss for how to handle the situation, Hermione decided to go up to Professor Riddle's office and ask him for advice.

x

The DADA professor had just unlocked his office door when he heard Hermione call his name. Turning, he gave her a warm look. "Something I can help you with, Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded and as the two walked into the office and sat down, Hermione outlined what had been going on with her boyfriend's sister. "I just want to know what's going on with her," Hermione concluded as Riddle made mugs of hot chocolate. "I think she wanted to tell me just now, but I don't know why she didn't."

Riddle handed a mug to his favorite student and sat down, looking pensive. "You know about all the surgery she had on her throat, correct?"

Hermione nodded. "Harry told me. The doctors and healers had to restructure everything after removing her vocal cords so she could have a normal airway and so that she could eat and drink normally without running the risk of choking. He also said that if they tried restoring her cords again—like they did briefly when she was 8—she'd have to have a tracheostomy tube put in so she could breathe properly, and possibly a feeding tube if her esophagus was too narrow."

"On the one hand," Riddle ventured, "Isabelle has lived her most of her life in silence. She's learned to adapt and, to a degree, accept what has happened to her."

"She's rethinking the surgery," Hermione concluded, letting out a long sigh. "She could be able to talk again, but she'd have to adapt to a new lifestyle. She'd have to take care of the trach tube and give herself formula injections if she has to have the feeding tube. She might not be able to eat her favorite foods anymore."

"Does she sacrifice everything she knows and things she loves just to fulfill her deepest desire?" Riddle mused, sipping his own hot chocolate. "I expect anyone in that situation would feel like their whole world was turned upside down."

Hermione took a drink of her own beverage, nodding silently. No wonder Isabelle had been so volatile lately. "But why not talk to her family about all this? We could help her figure things out."

Riddle shrugged and considered his own thoughts on the matter. He had a suspicion that Isabelle's silence was not only medical but metaphorical as well. Being unable to speak meant that she had to hold a lot in. There was also the matter of not wanting to burden her parents while they prepared for the further expansion of their family. Not to mention that her brothers had their own problems and her sister was too young to understand the ramifications of such an important decision.

After sharing his views, Riddle added, "I wish I could offer some easy solution to this whole conundrum."

Hermione nodded in agreement as she finished off her hot chocolate. "So do I. There's part of me that thinks that Isabelle should talk to her parents about this."

"Oh, she'll never do that of her own accord," Riddle interjected, waving the suggestion off. "If there's one thing I've learned teaching the Potter family, it is that as long as someone else is dealing with a problem, you must never add to their troubles, even if it is at your own expense. Something you should take note of, Miss Granger, if you are intent on pursuing a long-term romantic relationship with Harry."

Although Hermione could certainly attest to the excessive altruism in the Potter family, she knew this was one of those times when everyone involved needed to be brought together. "I'm going to send an owl to Mr. and Mrs. Potter and tell them what has been going on. I know Isabelle won't be happy about it, but she has to talk to her parents. And if she does indeed want to go through with getting her voice back, they should know."

"Always the pragmatist," Riddle praised Hermione before standing to refill her mug.

As Hermione sipped the hot chocolate, another question rose in her mind. As her gaze flicked between her DADA professor and her mug, she asked, "How do you make something as simple as hot chocolate taste so delicious?"

Riddle laughed but did not answer as he savored his own beverage.

"Also…" Hermione queried, raising an eyebrow. "—how did _you_ know what's been bothering Isabelle? Have you two talked about this before?"

"Ahhh… no, not exactly," Riddle replied, looking somewhat guilty. He muttered something into his mug and when Hermione asked him to repeat it, he cleared his throat before responding more clearly. "I… used legilimency."

"Legilimency," Hermione repeated, both eyebrows now raised in astonishment.

"In its simplest form, it's a form of magical mind re—" Riddle began only to be cut off by Hermione who seemed flabbergasted that one of her most trusted professors would trespass on a student's thoughts without their permission.

"Oh, I know what it is," Hermione snapped, setting her mug down as she got to her feet. "I just can't believe that _you_, of all people would do that!"

"Hermione, please sit down. Believe me, I only did what I did out of concern for Miss Potter," Riddle insisted, calmly. When Hermione slowly sat down, still giving his a critical stare, he explained. "Dominic Potter came to see me about his sister and expressed his fear that Isabelle might become self-injurious. I tried to dispel his concerns but I began wondering about the possibilities. In an effort to assuage my own fears, I used silent legilimency to see if Isabelle harbored notions of self harm. _That's_ how I found out about her thoughts about having the voice restoration surgery."

Rubbing her face with both hands, Hermione let out a long, frustrated sigh. Again, she thought about Isabelle's outburst and tantrums and how it all seemed to be an outward expression of her own whirlwind of emotions and conflicts. Lowering her hands, she now looked pleadingly at Riddle. "What do _you_ think she should do?"

Riddle shrugged lightly before shaking his head. "I could ask the same of you. Or her brothers. Ultimately, it will be Miss Potter's choice."

xxxxxxxxx


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Hot tears stung Isabelle's eyes as she sat in the empty Transfiguration classroom for detention. McGonagall hadn't even given her lines or cleaning to do—the Deputy Headmistress had simply stated that perhaps she—Isabelle—needed a 'time out'.

Doing some sort of labor would have been preferable, though, as the time alone just gave Isabelle more time to dwell on her own conflicts.

Earlier that spring, while Harry was still in hospital, Isabelle had spoken with the pediatric surgeon who had operated on her brother about voice restoration surgery. Surely there were possible medical advances made which would allow her to have her voice _and_ be able to breathe properly.

Unfortunately, the surgeon and healer Isabelle spoke with agreed that—given the malformation of her trachea, larynx, and esophagus—if her voice was restored, a tracheostomy tube would be required to maintain her airway and her esophagus would become too narrow to allow her to eat normally. She would have to adhere to a strict diet of liquids and very soft foods and would likely need a feeding tube to ensure she received the proper nutritional intake.

Wiping her eyes, Isabelle took a deep breath and tried to tell herself that she needed to just forget the whole 'wanting to speak again' issue, but she couldn't. Especially when she thought of the letter her mother had sent just last week.

During a prenatal doctor's visit, a healer had performed additional scans to test for any other problems other than Victoria's limb deformities.

'_Your other baby sister, Alexandra, is 95 percent deaf. Your father and I are looking into possible treatment as well as potential corrective surgery. It's called a cochlear implant and would help restore her hearing. We will, of course, also be teaching her sign language so that—one way or another—the two of you will be able to communicate.'_

The idea that her new sister would also be born into a silent world—only in a different way—made Isabelle even more conflicted and she wondered just what to do.

Hearing a knock on the door, Isabelle wiped her eyes again and turned to face whoever had come in, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw Draco Malfoy coming in. Grabbing a notebook out of her bag, she scribbled down a quick question. _'What are _you_ doing here?'_

Malfoy took a deep breath and paused to think for a moment before answering. A few days ago, Hermione had chewed him out for making out with Harry's sister until he'd explained the full situation.

Hearing someone in the empty classroom, Malfoy had gone in and found Isabelle silently crying. He'd asked if she was alright and while at first she'd been defensive, after talking about his own problems, Isabelle had opened up, sharing her thoughts about possibly having the operation to restore her voice.

Shortly after a lengthy conversation, the two shared a friendly hug and Isabelle had kissed Malfoy on the lips and after a moment of surprise, Malfoy kissed her back, sparking a make-out session.

As Malfoy had thought about Isabelle's dilemma the next day, he found himself thinking about _her_ more and more.

Recognizing that Malfoy was developing romantic feelings for Isabelle, Hermione begrudgingly agreed to teach him basic sign language.

Raising both hands and hoping Hermione had taught him properly, Malfoy signed, **'I was worried about you. I wanted to see if you were okay. I think I really like you.'** Sitting down next to Isabelle, he gave her a smile and spoke aloud. "I want to know more about you. I want to know… what your favorite things are. What music you like…" Taking another deep breath, he added, "I wish you'd choose the throat surgery."

Isabelle silently scoffed before writing down her reply. _'Why? So I'll be a freak with tubes in her throat and stomach instead of a freak who can't talk?'_

Licking his lips, Malfoy took Isabelle's hand in his and said, "Because I want to hear your voice… whatever it sounds like. I want to hear you laugh. You make me feel like it's okay to be myself. I don't know why, but… being around you, I finally feel comfortable in my own skin."

Sniffling a bit, Isabelle couldn't help a small smile. Mouthing her words as she signed, she replied, **'Don't get mushy on me. I'll start to think you're actually a decent guy.'**

"I want to be a good person," Malfoy admitted. "Talking with Mr. Duquesne, I've begun to realize that who I was before was just what my father made me. It's not who I _really_ am."

There was a strange vibe in the air as the two sat in silence for a few moments. Turning to her notebook, Isabelle carefully explained what was going on with her other unborn sister and handed the notebook to Malfoy who read it quickly before handing the book back. "Putting aside your mother's pregnancy and your brother being paralyzed," Malfoy ventured, tentatively. "—what do _you_ want to do?"

'_It's not that simple,'_ Isabelle wrote down. _'When I was 8 years old, my doctors thought they could fix things but it didn't work out. When I spoke to the surgeon and healers this spring… they said that—because of the surgery I had as a child—if they restore my voice, whatever happens is permanent. However they restructure my throat, I'll have to live with that the rest of my life.'_

She remembered when Harry had first been on a ventilator in the hospital and he'd started crying. The tracheostomy tube the ventilator hose had been attached to had clogged and the nurses had rushed in, disconnecting the hose and suctioning out the tube before hooking everything back up again. If she had the surgery, that would be her life. And the feeding tube, if necessary, would be another problem.

But thinking of how she'd landed in detention, Isabelle let out a deep breath as she realized that a lifetime of silence was slowly draining her of her happiness.

'**I want to have the surgery,'** Isabelle signed to Malfoy, mouthing the words as she did so.

"Oh, sweetheart," Lily Potter said as she and James came into the room making Isabelle and Malfoy jump to their feet. "Why didn't you say something to us?"

Isabelle rushed to hug her parents before putting a hand on her mother's very pregnant belly. **'I didn't want to worry you two,'** she started. **'But I guess Professor McGonagall told you about… what's been going on with me?'**

"Actually, it was your brothers… and Hermione… and Fred and George Weasley," James explained. Brushing his daughter's bangs out of her face, he looked at her inquisitively. "Are you certain this is what you want?"

Isabelle nodded, firmly. **'I'm sure.'**

Seeing that Lily Potter looked slightly uncomfortable standing up, Malfoy quickly hurried over and pulled out the nearest chair for her.

"Thank you," Lily breathed as she sat down, a hand on her stomach. "Ooof… I'll be relieved when the girls are born."

"Isabelle said that one baby had Hildegrand Syndrome and the other is deaf?" Malfoy prompted, sorrowfully. "I'm sorry. That must be a lot to deal with."

Surprised that his daughter was sharing such personal family information with someone who was considered, for the most part, a family enemy, James just nodded at first. "Thank you, Malfoy," he said, cautiously. Looking between the two teenagers, he couldn't help noticing the two very slowly and surreptitiously holding hands. Although his first instinct was to give Draco Malfoy a good verbal beat-down, he refrained for the moment. "I expect you to treat my little girl with the kindness and respect she deserves."

"And I expect you to end me if I don't," Malfoy replied, nodding to show that he understood what James was saying.

"Isabelle, dear, if you're absolutely sure about the surgery, I'll talk to Cauldwell Hospital," Lily said, as the twins began kicking again. Looking at James, she went on. "And you'll need to tell Sirius and Remus to stay with Camille because I really don't think I'm up for another round of apparition."

"In that case, you're going to up to the Hospital Wing," James stated, firmly. "Bed rest until our girls are born."

"No arguments from me," Lily agreed as she allowed James to help her to her feet.

"I've got a better idea," Malfoy piped up, thinking. Withdrawing his wand, he transfigured one of the classroom chairs into an old-fashioned wheelchair. "How's that?"

As James and Lily headed out of the room, Isabelle sat back down, feeling a touch drained. Seeing that Malfoy was still standing next to her, she gave him a smile. _'You better go before McGonagall comes back. We can talk more later.'_

"I'm looking forward to that," Malfoy murmured, grinning. To Isabelle's quizzical look, he elaborated. "Talking."

xxxxxxxxxx

When Isabelle finally got to the Gryffindor Common Room that night, she saw that it was empty except for her father who gave her a stern look as she closed the portrait door behind her.

'**Did you really think you were going to get away without talking to me, young lady?'** James asked, signing so that the conversation wouldn't be overheard.

As the two sat down, Isabelle tried to explain what was going on but as she attempted to rationalize, the more she realized that it sounded like one excuse after another. **'I just got so frustrated. And I didn't think I could tell you and Mum because I didn't want to add to Mum's stress.'**

'**Because it was so much better hearing from your brothers and their friends that you'd gone off the deep end? That you were throwing tantrums and mouthing off to your professors?'** James retorted, a snap in his signing. **'Dominic was afraid that you would resort to self-harm as an outlet for whatever you were going through.'**

'**He thought **_**what**_**?'** Isabelle cut in, her jaw dropping. **'No! I'd **_**never**_** do that!'** But when her father fixed her with a look, she averted her gaze. **'Okay, maybe I thought about it,'** she admitted, finally. **'But I swear that I never actually did anything.'**

Not sure if he actually believed his daughter, James remained silent for a moment before asking, **'And Draco Malfoy? What about you making out with him?'**

Describing how Malfoy had come into the empty classroom to check on her when he'd heard her crying, Isabelle couldn't help smiling as she went on about their conversation and how he'd snuck into her detention to see how she was doing.

Although James was incredibly wary about letting his daughter date Draco Malfoy, he couldn't help marveling at how Isabelle seemed genuinely happy when she discussed their budding relationship. **'You're going to tell me to stay away from Malfoy, aren't you?'** Isabelle concluded, the smile disappearing from her face.

James hugged her before brushing her bangs away from her face. "All I want if for you to be happy and healthy. I'm sorry your mother and I haven't really given you the time and attention we should have," he said quietly.

'**You've had other things to focus on,'** Isabelle replied, waving off the apology.

James, however, persisted. "That's no excuse. If the surgery is going to help you, then that's what we'll do. And if being with Draco Malfoy makes you happy… I guess I'll just have to learn to accept that."

Giving her father a return hug, Isabelle couldn't hold back the tears of joy and relief that fell down her cheeks.

* * *

As the following day was the quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, James and Lily joined the rest of their children in the stands, watching as Harry took to the air, hovering high above the rest of the game.

Nick and Cedric had come to visit and had brought Camille, Sirius, and Remus with them.

"So what's this I hear about you and Draco Malfoy?" Nick asked his younger sister, raising an eyebrow.

Isabelle rolled her eyes and shrugged. **'We really like each other.'**

"Hold that thought—Harry's after the snitch!" Cedric shouted, elbowing his fiancé in the ribs.

"Come on, Harry!" Sirius shouted as well, watching his godson streaking after the small, golden ball.

The Potters, along with their friends, collectively winced and gasped as one of the bludgers hit Harry in the legs, sending him into a barrel-roll.

Harry recovered quickly and just as one of the Gryffindor chasers scored another goal, he managed to snag the golden snitch just before Brachett could get to it.

Getting down to the ground, Harry paused for a moment before attempting to transfer from his broom back to his wheelchair.

"You okay, mate?" Fred Weasley asked, quietly as he saw Harry look from his legs to his parents who were heading his way.

Harry nodded as he quietly murmured, "Just go grab Madame Pomfrey and have her come to the locker room. And stall my parents, would you?" he added before making a dash for it.

A few minutes later, Madame Pomfrey came into the locker room looking wary. "What have you done to yourself now, Potter, and why am I not telling your parents?"

Harry carefully took off his pants so he was sitting in his boxer shorts, exposing his battered legs. "Because I'm pretty sure that bludger broke both my legs and I don't want my parents to freak out."

Pomfrey went to work quickly, mending the injured limbs before helping Harry get dressed again. "I will inform your parents that your legs were simply bruised but I was able to take care of you without any trouble."

"Thank you, ma'am," Harry replied, sincerely.

"You do make things interesting, Mr. Potter," Pomfrey added with a small smile. "Remind me to tell you about some of your parents' exploits one of these days."

Wheeling out of the room behind the Hogwarts school nurse, Harry mentally berated himself for not being more careful. With his lower body immobile, bruising and broken bones could be especially dangerous as they could either cause or contribute to blood clots which could then travel to his heart, lungs, or brain and cause any number of problems.

"Are you alright?" Lily asked as James wheeled her over in the same old fashioned wheelchair that Malfoy had transfigured the previous day.

"I'm fine, Mum," Harry assured her. "Just a little bruised. Madame Pomfrey fixed me right up." Before his parents could question him further, he added, cheerfully, "Say, who's hungry? I know I am."

x

At the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, everyone discussed Isabelle's upcoming surgery.

"Your mother and I think it would be best if you had the operation as soon as possible," James told Isabelle as she ate. "So Monday, after classes, we'll take you over to Cauldwell. After the surgery, you'll be in hospital for 5 to 7 days before you come back to Hogwarts. That way the doctors and healers can monitor your breathing and make sure there are no other complications."

Nodding, Isabelle felt a sudden swell of anxiety. She'd never really liked being in hospitals and Harry's accident the previous year had only bolstered that feeling. Still, it was only for a week at most.

"Professor McGonagall said she'd give you an additional week off to recuperate when you get back," Hermione reported. "That way you can ease back into things."

"And your father and I are going to be staying here until I give birth," Lily reported. Looking at Sirius and Remus, she narrowed her gaze, warningly. "That means that the two of you better be taking very good care of Camille while we're gone. I don't want to hear of any incidents when we get home."

"Don't worry, Lily," Remus assured her. "Everything will be fine. Just take care of yourself and the twins."

X

After lunch, Isabelle tracked down Malfoy who was outside sitting on the ground outside of the greenhouses, a sketchbook in one hand and a pencil in the other.

"Isabelle," Malfoy exclaimed, surprised, as he got to his feet. "What are you doing here?"

'**I'm going to be gone next week,'** she started off as she sat down next to Malfoy, remembering to mouth the words as she signed. **'The surgery is going to happen on Tuesday. I'm leaving on Monday so they can get me prepped and everything.'**

"Are you scared?" Malfoy queried, noticing how twitchy Isabelle seemed to be. "Wouldn't blame you if you were."

'**What if after all this, my voice sounds terrible? Or what if I still can't speak?'** Isabelle asked, nervously. **'What if after all this… nothing changes and my life is just more awful?'**

"It won't be that awful," Malfoy blurted out before he'd thought things through. "You'll still have me." As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. Not because they weren't true, but he'd been hoping for a better time to say it. "And your friends and family, of course," he added, quickly.

'**You're not falling in love with me, are you?'** Isabelle asked, her eyes wide.

"Would it be awful if I was?" Malfoy probed, wondering if his feelings were one-sided.

But Isabelle shook her head as she leaned forward and kissed him. 'Not awful at all,' she mouthed.

* * *

Monday came fast and once Isabelle was admitted at Cauldwell, she was taken to the radiology and imaging wing for a battery of scans of her throat.

Once she was settled in her room, James came in with the surgeon, Silvia Horner. "Isabelle, this is Dr. Horner. She's going to be operating on you tomorrow along with Healer Shelton," James explained, sitting next to his daughter's bed.

"What we're going to do first," Dr. Horner said as she sat on the edge of the bed. "—is install the tracheostomy tube so that you can breathe. The tube will have a speech valve attached so that you'll be able to talk once we've implanted the artificial vocal cords which will have magical sensors so as to be hands-free. You won't need to use any sort of external device to speak."

After Isabelle nodded that she understood, Horner went on. "We will also be installing an abdominal feeding tube so that you'll be able to receive the proper nutritional intake since the top of your esophagus will be somewhat pinched. You'll still be able to drink liquids and eat foods like gelatin, ice cream, thin soups, or applesauce, but your esophagus will not be wide enough to accommodate normal solid foods."

Nodding again, Isabelle took a deep breath as she tried to picture what life would be like for her. Checking the trach tube, injections of nutritional formula, carefully monitoring her diet…

…laughing with her family and friends… actually answering a question in class… telling someone 'I love you'…

'_Someone?'_ Isabelle's subconscious asked. _'Or someone in particular? Like Draco Malfoy?'_

Maybe… Isabelle thought as she focused on the doctor talking about how to handle the trach tube being clogged or if she had some sort of blockage.

"Since you're a witch, you'll be able to use your wand to clear any blockages," Horner advised. "Same for the feeding tube. You'll need to make sure to flush both tubes with an antimicrobial potion at least once a day so that you don't have any contaminants building up that could make you sick."

Feeling her father squeeze her hand, Isabelle turned to him and as he raised an eyebrow in a silent question, she nodded after another deep breath. **'I want to do this. I'm sure.'**

"Okay," James said, looking at Dr. Horner. "She's sure she wants to do this."

Horner made a note on Isabelle's chart. "Isabelle, I also want you to understand that just because you're going to have the artificial larynx, that does _not_ mean that you'll be able to speak normally again right away. You'll be given some speech therapy exercises to work on while you get the knack of it and for at least the next 4 to 6 months, your voice will be very weak and raspy."

'**I understand,'** Isabelle signed, her father translating.

"You'll also have to be careful if you feel extremely nauseous," Horner advised. "If you can get to the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts or inform your parents quickly, that would be best."

"Why do you say that?" James asked, somewhat confused.

The doctor went on. "Vomiting with the tubes could result in clogs—especially the trach. Also, depending on how thick the vomit is, Isabelle's esophagus could receive additional damage which could further impede her ability to swallow."

James nodded and after a moment, he inquired about what to do in that instance.

"If your daughter has stomach issues and persistent vomiting, she may require a drain tube in her stomach," Horner explained.

Isabelle swallowed hard as she leaned back. She'd never considered that all this would be necessary and even though a part of her said that getting her voice back wasn't worth all these complications, she remained resolved. 'Okay,' she mouthed, nodding in understanding.

Horner gave the young lady a smile and nodded in return. "Alright then. Get some rest. We'll have you in surgery bright and early tomorrow morning."

Once the doctor had departed, James sat down next to the bed. "Scared?"

'**Yeah,'** Isabelle admitted. **'I didn't know that getting my voice back would involve so much.'**

James cleared his throat and confessed, "That's why your mother and I didn't want you to have additional surgery when you were younger." When Isabelle sat up straight looking shocked, he elaborated. "We were afraid that it would all be too much for you at that age. We'd meant to bring up the idea when you were older. And then your brother was paralyzed and your mum got pregnant again… I dunno… Maybe we should have done all this when you were a baby and you'd have grown up thinking it was normal."

Isabelle shook her head. **'Other than not being able to speak, I **_**was**_** normal. I think with the twins on the way I wanted my voice back so I didn't feel like I was invisible.'**

"You've never been invisible," James assured her before giving her a kiss on the forehead. "Never."

'I love you, Dad,' Isabelle mouthed.

"And I am looking forward to hearing _that_ out loud," James added with a grin.

* * *

The following morning, Dominic and Harry joined their parents, brother, and little sister in the surgical waiting room while Isabelle was taken into the operating room.

"Dr. Horner said that the surgery should be about 3 to 4 hours," Lily advised her children. Turning her attention to Harry and Dominic, she added, "You could have gone to classes and come by after lunch."

Harry shook his head firmly. "Isabelle waited for me to get out of surgery. I'm waiting for her."

"Me, too," Dom and Nick said in unison.

"I want to make sure Izzy is okay," Camille added.

"Well, if we're all camping out here," Sirius piped up, getting to his feet. "I'm going to the café and picking up breakfast." Once he'd fetched a pen and a piece of paper from the nurses' station down the hallway, Sirius started taking orders.

After leaving the room with Remus, Sirius went over to the café next door and gave one of the waitresses the takeout order before greeting the manager, Barbara Henley, who gave them a smile and a wave in return. "Have a seat," she instructed, cheerfully. "I'll get you some fresh coffee while you're waiting."

Sirius did as told, as did Remus, and moments later, two cups of hot coffee were placed before them. "Thank you, Barbara," Remus said, kindly, sipping his beverage.

"Don't tell me Harry's in hospital again," the manager pleaded, a worried expression on her face.

"Harry's sister, Isabelle," Remus corrected. "She's having surgery on her throat."

"Oh, the poor dear," Barbara murmured, sympathetically. "I hope she has a swift recovery."

"Her surgeon expects she'll be back at school by next week," Sirius stated before taking another gulp of his coffee. .

Hearing the phone ring, she gave the two Marauders another brief smile. "Excuse me a moment."

Sirius quickly downed the rest of his coffee and just as he was about to ask for a refill, Barbara bustled over. "James just called from the hospital. Lily's gone into early labor."

Sirius and Remus stood up quickly, Sirius starting to pull his money out as he spoke. "Can you—?"

"Don't worry about the food or the bill," Barbara insisted. "It's on the house and I'll have someone bring it over."

"Thank you!" Remus hollered over his shoulder as he and Sirius started to run back to the hospital.

xxx

In the surgical waiting room, Harry, Dominic, Nick, and Camille were alone as Sirius and Remus burst in. "What happened?' Sirius demanded, looking concerned.

Nick shrugged, uncertainly. "Mum's water broke and she started having contractions. A couple nurses took her up to the delivery suite."

Remus and Sirius exchanged looks as they wondered how to split up. After a while, Sirius looked at Nick and said, "Alright, you and I will go see how things are going with your mum." Turning to the other three Potters, he added, "Moony's going to stay here with you so you lot can keep an ear out for any news on Isabelle."

"Yeah, sure," Dominic nodded, trying not to be worried about his mother and sister.

X

Around noon, Malfoy, Hermione, Fred, and George turned up bringing several baskets of sandwiches and bottles of butterbeer.

"Any word on Isabelle or Mrs. Potter?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"Victoria was taken into surgery about two hours ago," Harry replied, referring to his newborn sister. "She… H-Her legs…" Taking a deep breath after sniffling slightly, he clarified, "She's going to lose her right leg at the hip. They think they should be able to save her left leg but she'll be on crutches when she gets old enough to walk."

"Alexandra is being stubborn," Dominic added. "Dad says that if she isn't born soon, the doctors will have to remove her surgically."

"Oh, dear," Hermione gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. "But what about your mum?"

"Lily is stable for the time being," Remus reported. "Although I expect that this will be her last pregnancy."

"What about Isabelle?" Malfoy wanted to know.

"Still in surgery," Harry answered, looking at the clock on the wall. "She should be out soon."

While the group ate, there was little to no conversation as everyone seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. As the time ticked by, the Potter children wondered about the condition of their mother and sisters.

When the door to the operating room opened, everyone turned to see who was coming out.

Healer Harriet Yancy looked at the group and announced, "Victoria Potter is out of surgery."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief before asking about Isabelle.

"They're finishing her procedure right now," Yancy replied. "Both girls will be in post-op observation for about 1 to 2 hours before being transferred to pediatrics."

"If you don't mind," Remus implored, hopefully. "Would you mind checking on Lily Potter and her other child, Alexandra? We haven't heard any further news."

"Of course," the healer agreed before leaving the room.

Running a hand through his messy black hair, Harry began to feel stir crazy just waiting for news on his family. Was this how everyone else had felt after the First Task when he'd been paralyzed?

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, as she joined Harry.

Harry shrugged before glancing at his lower body. "Just feeling a bit antsy. Was this…?"

"…how we all felt last year?" Hermione finished, knowingly. "Pretty much. We thought we were going to lose you for a while. And when the surgeon told us how badly you'd been hurt…" Hermione looked up when the hallway door opened and Nick came in, grinning.

"Sorry, everyone," Nick said, breathlessly. "Mum's okay. Alexandra is going to be fine, too. She had some minor breathing problems, but the doctors say she'll be okay in a few days. She's in the pediatric ICU right now. Dad's helping the nurses get Mum cleaned up. We can go see her in a little while."

* * *

Four hours later, while the Potters checked on Lily and the twins, Malfoy went to Isabelle's room alone and sat down in the chair by her bed. "Your sisters look good," Malfoy reported, quietly, as he studied the unconscious teenager. "They've both got your dad's hair and your mum's eyes so they look a lot like Harry."

"Your family wanted to see you first but I told them if they wanted to check on your mum and the twins, I'd sit with you until you woke up," he went on. Letting his gaze drift to the trach tube, Malfoy sat back as he thought about the future… a future where he and Isabelle were together and happy.

There would be challenges, certainly, and times where he might have to help her clean the trach and feeding tubes. But that didn't bother him in the slightest. The tubes were a part of Isabelle now and if he wanted to have a life with her, he needed to add that to what he envisioned for the years to come.

As Isabelle stirred, Malfoy took her hand, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did so, he smiled, squeezing her hand gently. "Hey," he whispered, softly. "Want me to get your family for you? They're just down the hall in the PICU."

Isabelle shook her head slightly, wincing with pain as she did so. Feeling for the bed control, she raised the back a bit so it was easier to look Malfoy in the eye. Licking her lips, she raised her free hand and mouthed the words as she signed. **'I need to tell you something. You gave me the strength to do this. Thank you.'**

"You're welcome," Malfoy murmured.

'**Not done yet,'** Isabelle went on, giving Malfoy a smirk. Licking her lips again, she took a deep breath and hoped she could do what she needed to. "I… love… you…"

Her voice was incredibly faint and hoarse, but Malfoy heard it and he couldn't help grinning like a madman. "I love you, too," he replied, signing the words as he spoke. Kissing the back of Isabelle's hand, he said, "You sound like an angel."

Isabelle gave a breathy sound that was trying to be a laugh which made Malfoy chuckle.

"We'll work on the laughter thing," he promised, kissing her hand again.

Hearing the door open, Isabelle raised the back of her bed further so she was sitting up properly as her father and siblings came in.

"You look good," Nick observed. "How do you feel?"

Isabelle touched the trach tube with her free hand before she signed, **'This feels weird. Same for the feeding tube.'**

"You'll adjust," Harry assured her, wheeling closer to the bed. "If I can get used to not being able to move my legs or feel anything below my waist, you can get used to this."

'**True,'** Isabelle replied, nodding in agreement. **'Excellent point. How are Mum and the twins?' **she added, looking around for her mother.

"Mum went into early labor while we were waiting for you," Nick reported. "She's already had the twins, but Mum had a… had some problems after she gave birth. She's okay now," he assured his sister who sat bolt upright, eyes wide at the news. "But the doctors and healers had to do an emergency hysterectomy. Mum won't be able to have any more children."

Feeling tears welling up in her eyes, Isabelle tried taking a deep breath to calm down. **'I want to see her.'**

"She's still unconscious," Harry reported. "But when she wakes up, we'll let you know. She wants to see you, too."

'**And Victoria and Alexandra?'** Isabelle probed.

"Alex is going to be having surgery to install a cochlear implant when she's 9 months old," Nick explained as he sat on the edge of the bed by his sister's feet. "But Dad says we'll still be teaching her sign language. Victoria's entire right leg was amputated and she's in a cast up to keep her left leg straight. Hopefully she won't need any additional surgery as she gets older. Healer Shelton thinks she'll be able to walk with crutches just fine when she's old enough."

Sitting down in the chair Malfoy had vacated, James took his daughter's hand and gave her a smile.

Looking at her family, especially her father, Isabelle took a few deep breaths and after a few false starts, whispered, "Hi… Dad…"

"Hey," James whispered back, tears of joy falling down his cheeks. "You sound great, honey."

Shaking her head slightly, wincing as the action pulled at the stitches on her neck, she replied, "No, I… don't." With a smile, she added, "But I'll… get better…"

When Isabelle let out a sound like she was gasping for breath, James stood up quickly, ready to run to get a doctor, healer, or nurse.

"It's okay," Malfoy assured him, promptly, looking at Isabelle who nodded and gave a thumbs-up. "That was Isabelle's attempt at a laugh. It's going to take some time to get that right."

Isabelle was about to say something else when her stomach grumbled. Looking up at James, she made the sign for 'hungry'.

"I'll ask the nurses to get you some juice and your first dose of formula. You'll need to get used to that as soon as possible," James said before ducking out of the room.

Camille sat down in the chair and stared at her big sister, her eyes drawn to the trach tube. Remembering when Harry had had the same tube in his throat the previous year, she asked, "Do you have that thing in your neck because you can't breathe?"

Exchanging a look with Harry, Isabelle shook her head before shrugging. **'Sort of. My lungs are working fine, but…'** Looking at Nick, she pointed to her bag in the corner. **'Hand me my notebook, would you?'** After getting the notebook and a pen, Isabelle started drawing a diagram of her throat. **'Remember how Mum and Dad told you that my throat was partially fused when I was born? Well, with the surgery I had to restore my voice, the doctors and healers had to make more room for the artificial voice box. But that means that my esophagus—the part of my throat that sends food down to my stomach—and my trachea—the part that connects to my lungs—were pinched.'**

"That means," Harry carried on. "—that Isabelle now has to have a tube in her throat so she can have a properly sized airway."

'**That's right,'** Isabelle added, pulling her blankets down and raising the hospital shirt she wore to expose the feeding tube port. **'And that's also why I have this tube. This goes straight into my stomach and I'll have to inject a nutritional formula through the port so I can get enough to eat.'**

"Because you can't swallow food anymore?" Camille concluded, frowning.

"Not foods like pizza, sandwiches, or pork chops," Harry corrected, gently. "Isabelle is going to be living on mashed potatoes, oatmeal, non-chunky soups, applesauce… Ice cream."

Camille's eyes widened in surprise as she stared at her sister in astonishment. "You can eat all the ice cream you want?"

Isabelle let out a wheezing chuckle. **'I can't live off of ice cream alone, but yes. But it can't have big chunks in it because—even with thorough chewing—I might not be able to swallow them.'**

When James came back with one of the nurses, Roslyn, the Potter siblings all moved towards the wall so that Roslyn could get to the right side of the bed.

"You're going to need two 4-ounce doses of formula every 4 to 6 hours," Roslyn advised Isabelle as she slowly injected the first dose. "That plus whatever other food or liquids you consume should insure you get all the calories, vitamins, and protein you need. If you start noticing that you have constant loose bowel movements, feel free to add powdered fiber supplements to the formula." Once both doses were in, Roslyn flushed the tube and capped the port. Handing Isabelle a juice box, she added, "Go with tiny sips or bites till your throat gets used to swallowing the smaller amounts, alright?"

After a few small sips of juice, Isabelle leaned back, feeling somewhat drained.

Harry, recognizing the look on his sister's face, wheeled about to look at the others. "Let's give her some time to rest, eh?" As he maneuvered his wheelchair so he was looking at his sister, he asked, "Did you want one of us to stay with you?"

As Isabelle looked at her siblings and sort-of boyfriend, her gaze landed on Harry.

Nick nodded in understanding and quietly shooed everyone else out leaving Harry and Isabelle alone.

After lowering the back of the hospital bed a bit, Isabelle gave her brother a small smile. "Thank you."

"Whatever you need," Harry murmured, holding her hand. "Rest. Surgery takes a lot out of you."

Closing her eyes, Isabelle soon fell back asleep.


End file.
